The PotterWood Saga Vol I: Vinculum Duo
by WoodismyKeeper
Summary: Lurking deep within the dreams of Hogwarts students, the Nocturnimagi are about to make a frightening return. The only thing that can stop it is an ancient magic which will make itself known for the first time in almost 1,500 years. It's up to Harry and Oliver to harness this power and put an end to the Nocturnimagi's reign of terror.
1. Reunion

**Chapter One –Reunion**

Waking up in his comfortable four-poster bed, ready for his seventh-and-final year at Hogwarts, Harry Potter found himself with a very prominent "problem" beneath the sheets. He was grateful that seventh-year students received their own personal rooms so that they could enjoy some relaxation time on their own, as well as using it to study harder for their imminent NEWT exams. There were other uses for these rooms, however, and the staff of Hogwarts were well aware of this. It had been Professor McGonagall's idea to sound proof the rooms so that the students could get on with their "business" without disturbing the others, and to prevent their own privacy from being invaded by eavesdroppers and voyeurs.

Harry's room was circular and small, but not cramped. It was very easy to move around in the room without bumping into his things. As he sat up in bed, he looked around. Opposite his four-poster bed was a large, brown cupboard where he stored his trunk, several clean sets of school robes and his Quidditch robes as well as his schoolbooks and his Firebolt. Next to the cupboard was Hedwig's cage on its stand with the owl on her perch. Harry had placed a black sheet over the cage the previous night after the feast in the Great Hall so that she would, hopefully, go to sleep. Hedwig had always been a restless bird, much to Harry's annoyance. On the walls around the room, Harry had hung several posters of his old Quidditch captain and Puddlemere United keeper, Oliver Wood. In the posters Oliver was constantly smiling and waving. Harry had often sworn that he was looking _directly_ at him, as if he was watching his every move. Ron and the other boys thought that Harry had put the posters up because Oliver was his favourite Quidditch player and former friend and Quidditch captain. This was true… to an extent.

Deciding that he needed to take care of his growing "issue", Harry laid back down on his soft, luxurious mattress. Pulling the covers from his bed and throwing them to the floor, he started to gently stroke his erection, all the while staring at the posters of Oliver on the wall. The Oliver in the posters kept on smiling and waving. With Oliver Wood as his inspiration, Harry began to quicken his pace, pulling his foreskin up and down over the tip, pre-cum beginning to build up on the reddening head. The smile on Oliver's face in the posters widened as though he was beckoning Harry to the edge. Harry gasped as he felt that oh-so-familiar knot in his scrotum as the oncoming orgasm began its thunderous journey through his system.

"_Oliver!_"

Four thick streams of pearl-white cum spouted from Harry's engorged cock, splattering across his Quidditch-defined abs and up onto his toned pectoral muscles. He shuddered as the orgasm continued to rage through his body, curling his toes as he surrendered to the sensations.

After several minutes, Harry's breathing began to level as he descended from the level of bliss he had enjoyed frequently. All the years before, Harry had found it difficult to enjoy some "private time" all to himself to have a good wank. It was for this main reason that Harry had been grateful that he had his own room. There had been many times over the past six years when Ron, Seamus, Neville and the others had caught him "in the act".

_Third year…_

"Hey, Ha-GAH!" Ron had exclaimed as he walked into the large shared bedroom.

Harry scurried underneath the covers and hunched himself forward, eager to hide his erection. Ron quickly turned a deep shade of red as he realised what Harry had been up to. The awkward silence that followed seemed to last an eternity. After several tense minutes, they had both recovered from the embarrassment.

"Sorry, Harry, I should have knocked." Ron apologised.

"It's OK, Ron. Although, it would be nice to finish off, if you know what I mean."

The embarrassment made itself evident once again on Ron's cheeks, his features turning almost the same colour as his hair.

"Erm… yeah. I'll just… wait outside…"

And with that, Ron dashed from the bedroom, leaving Harry to finish up.

_Harry's bedroom…_

Once the orgasm had dissipated, Harry muttered a few cleaning spells to clean himself up. He got off the bed and pulled his red boxer shorts on. After that he made his way to his cupboard and put a clean set of robes on. Grabbing his wand and glasses from his bedside table, Harry ran from the bedroom and down into the Gryffindor common room, where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him so that they could start their first day of lessons. Hermione was looking as impatient as always.

"Harry!" she scolded him, "Do you want us to be late for our first day of lessons?"

Harry shook his head.

"Good. Now, let's go, you two. We've got Potions first. We don't want to keep Professor Snape waiting. You know he's always trying to find ways to take house points away from Gryffindor."

The three students headed out the doorway to their first lesson of the year; Potions.

The first week of lessons for Harry seemed to fly by, except for his Potions lessons, which he dreaded immensely. The lessons would have been great if Snape had been a kind and caring professor, like Slughorn who had split the lessons with Snape. Slughorn would teach five hours of Potions a week and Snape would teach the other five. Harry wished he could have all ten hours a week with Slughorn. By the time the weekend arrived, Harry was exhausted, and very irritated by the all-too-familiar taunts from the Slytherins, especially Draco Malfoy. Harry was in his right mind to jinx the smug expressions from their faces after Malfoy had tripped him over, but he decided that Malfoy was not worth the likely house point deductions that would follow. Now that the weekend had arrived Harry, Ron and Hermione were grateful that they could go to Hogsmeade and relax in The Three Broomsticks.

Harry had known he was gay since he was in his third year and had begun to develop a strong romantic attraction to his Quidditch captain, Oliver Wood. At first, he had assumed that this was just a phase that would soon pass but it had carried over to his final year. Today was the day that Harry had decided that he would tell his two best friends about his sexuality, having finally embraced the notion after four years of emotional distress and torment.

As he, Ron and Hermione sat down at the nearest available table in The Three Broomsticks, Harry felt his chest constrict, unsure about how his best friends would accept him. The three of them ordered butterbeer when Madam Rosmerta walked up to their table. Quickly scrawling down the order on a small piece of parchment, Rosmerta went back to the bar and poured butterbeer into three tankards. She went back to the trio and laid them on the table.

"On the house." Rosmerta smiled, winking at Harry.

"I think you've scored there, mate." Ron commented.

Harry shifted uncomfortably on his stool.

"Erm… about that…" Harry began, "I need to tell you two something. I've been having these… feelings. Feelings for…"

He couldn't bring himself to say it.

"Harry…" Hermione soothed, placing a hand on his shoulder and stroking it with her thumb, "What is it?"

"I… I'm… I'vebeenhavingfeelingsformen." Harry spoke quicker than he had intended, instead slurring each word and blending them together.

Ron and Hermione understood what he was telling them despite his blurting. Harry's heart fell through the floor as they sat on their stools staring at him. Were they going to reject him? Would he lose his two best friends?

"You're not going to start ignoring me, are you? You won't forget about me because I'm gay?" Harry worried.

Hermione stood up from the table, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Harry…" she muttered.

She walked over to where Harry was sitting and cupped his face in her hands. She gazed into his emerald green eyes as her fingertips lightly brushed through his wild, black her. She kissed him on the cheek, comforting him. Then she slapped him.

"Ow! What was that for?!"

"That's for thinking that I'd ever turn my back on you."

Hermione hugged Harry.

"Ron, if you're OK with this, just tell me. I don't want a punch; Hermione's slap was hard enough!" Harry laughed.

"It's alright, mate. I'm fine with it." Ron smiled.

"Thanks a lot, you two. It's great to know that you'll always be there for me."

Tears began to well up in Harry's eyes as his emotions finally began to take over. Eventually, the tears burst their banks. Beads of white-hot water began to trickle down his chiselled features, leaving a visible trail of residue on each of his cheeks. Hermione held him tightly, only encouraging the boy to sob into her shoulder. After several minutes of Hermione soothing him, and many annoyed glances in their direction from the other witches and wizards in the bar, Harry managed to overcome his emotions and pull himself together.

"What's all the commotion about?" a familiar Scottish voice asked from behind Ron, with the door to the pub closing gently in its wake.

"Oliver?" Harry asked, astonished at seeing his former Quidditch captain once again, "What are you doing here?"

He blushed slightly as he gazed at Oliver Wood's chiselled features, beginning to drool slightly. Hermione nudged him with her elbow to alert him of his obvious arousal. He carried on staring at the handsome Quidditch star, his trousers beginning to bulge.

"I left Puddlemere United." Oliver announced.

The trio was dumbfounded by this shock revelation. It wasn't in Oliver's nature to simply leave a Quidditch team.

"What?! Why?" Ron quizzed.

"Well, let's just say the team isn't exactly as friendly off the pitch as it is when it's on the pitch." Oliver revealed, "There were just too many arguments between the players, including myself. They might not know it yet, but that team is falling apart from the inside. Anyways, I heard about the opening for a Quidditch coach so I decided to apply. I can't believe that I was the only one who applied for the job! I start next week just before the new Quidditch season starts."

The other three nodded their understanding of his choice to leave the team. Harry was excited beyond measure when he learned that his Quidditch coach this year would be Oliver. It meant that Harry could spend more time around him and reacquaint himself with his former friend.

"Now, tell me what it was that I just saw. I haven't seen you crying like that before, Harry." Oliver asked with a voice of concern, pulling a stool up to the table.

Harry felt comfortable talking to Oliver. In fact, if Oliver was still a student at Hogwarts, he would have been the first person that Harry came out to.

"I was just coming out to Ron and Hermione." Harry stated, surprising even himself at how easy it was to say it.

At this point, more heads in the pub turned to eavesdrop on the conversation, among them being Rita Skeeter. It was at this point that she realised that Harry Potter was sitting in the same room as her _and_ he was coming out. She failed to see Oliver Wood sitting next to him.

"_This'll make a very interesting story for the Daily Prophet…_" she thought to herself whilst smelling a scoop big enough to make front page news.

She scurried over to the table where Harry and the others were sat.

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" Ron moaned as he saw the oncoming journalist, "Quick! Get out before she gets here!"

The group ran out of the door onto the street outside, leaving several silver sickles on the table to pay for the butterbeer, despite Madam Rosmerta's gracious gesture.

"I'm getting so sick of her following me around." Oliver complained.

"I think we should head back to the school. If we don't, she'll probably just keep following us around Hogsmeade until we let her have her interview." Hermione reasoned.

"Hold on, Hermione. I need to pick up a few things from Honeydukes. I'm running low on sweets." Ron moaned.

Hermione sighed in exasperation.

"Oh, honestly, Ronald. You and your bloody sweet tooth. Sorry, you two. We'll meet you up at the castle in about an hour or so. Besides, it gives you two time to catch up."

Harry and Oliver made their way back up to Hogwarts castle.

"So, Harry. When you said you were coming out to Ron and Hermione did you mean that you were coming out as in 'out' out?" Oliver asked.

"You mean as gay? Yeah, I was." Harry smiled.

"Well, that's great, Harry! It was a really brave thing for you to do. There was a gay player at Puddlemere United, too, but he doesn't want anyone else to know about it, especially the media. Everyone was really great towards him."

"Well it's great that he felt able to trust all of you when he came out." Harry replied.

It was a bright, sunny day outside and most of the students were laying on the grass in their casual muggle clothes. Oliver and Harry chose an open space of grass and sat down. It was only then that Harry was truly absorbed in Oliver's beauty. His short, brown hair lined his head, showing off his flawless, tanned features in an agonisingly erotic way. His bright, hazel eyes glistened in the sunlight and looked deep into the soul of the one they looked at. Around his face was a light stubble.

Oliver turned to look at Harry.

"So, do you still want to be an auror when you leave Hogwarts?" Oliver inquired.

_How did Oliver know that Harry wanted to be an auror? He had graduated from Hogwarts before Harry had even considered his career path._

"H-how did you know I wanted to be an auror?" Harry asked.

Oliver could feel himself growing hotter as Harry had caught him out. His face didn't show the evidence, however.

"I guessed that you'd want to be an auror since you seem to have a fascination with stopping dark wizards." Oliver joked.

"I don't go looking for them, if that's what you mean. Anyway, are you gonna stay on as Quidditch coach or is this just a temporary thing?"

"We'll see how it goes first. If I like coaching Quidditch as much as I do playing the sport I'll probably stay on as permanent."

"I think you'd suit being a coach. It was hell when we were under you as captain. You're a born leader, Oliver."

"Thanks, Harry." Oliver replied, feeling pleased at that last statement.

By now, Ron and Hermione were making their way up to the patch of grass where Harry and Oliver were sat. They sat down next to them.

"So… Harry?" Ron asked, "You haven't ever had an, erm… crush on me or the other lads, have you?"

"RON!" Hermione scolded him, appalled at her boyfriend's complete lack of appropriateness, "How could you ask him such a thing?"

"That _was_ a bit insensitive, Ron." Oliver remarked.

He turned to face Harry.

"Whichever lads you fancy is entirely your business, nobody else's."

The group remained there for some time with Harry learning more about Oliver while he was engrossed in his many stories about Quidditch and other things, oftentimes finding himself laughing at jokes he didn't quite understand. But for the first time in what felt like ages, Harry finally felt like he had met someone he could call his own.

_If only Oliver would feel the same way…_

It was getting dark when the group had decided to call it a night. Walking onto the Gryffindor corridor, Harry realised that Oliver hadn't told them where he was staying.

"Oliver, where are you sleeping?" he asked the coach-to-be, "Have you been given your teacher's quarters yet?"

"Not yet. And if I'm honest, I really don't fancy sleeping at The Three Broomsticks."

Harry's eyes lit up at the prospect of a gorgeous Quidditch player being without a place to stay. He felt even more grateful for having his own room because he had the larger bedroom when it was compared with Ron's, which he frequently shared with Hermione anyway. Ron and Hermione glanced at each other and smirked as they saw Harry's eyes gleaming with excitement.

"How about you sleep in my room, Ollie?" asked Harry, "I've got a spare sleeping bag in the cupboard."

_What am I thinking? I've never called him 'Ollie' before…_

"If you don't mind, Harry." Oliver accepted, completely missing Harry's fuchsia-coloured cheeks, feeling slightly flattered at Harry's use of the name 'Ollie'.

Ron winked at Harry jokingly as the group reached their bedrooms, with Ron and Hermione going into their room and Harry walking behind Oliver into his room. Harry walked to the large, brown cupboard and pulled out the sleeping bag. He laid it out across the floor and gestured for Oliver to make himself comfortable. Harry began to get undressed to get into bed. Looking at the clock, he saw that the time was, miraculously, only 9:10 p.m.

Harry climbed into the large bed as Oliver began to get undress himself and get settled into the sleeping bag. Harry's mouth gaped as his former school friend began a striptease-esque ritual, slowly pulling his black, turtleneck jumper and white tank top up and over his head, revealing his tanned torso. Harry began to drool slightly as he witnessed a well-defined six pack and taut chest. Oliver's red low-riding jeans revealed the small 'V' shape just above his _area_, with a light dusting of hair visible above the waistline of his white boxer shorts.

Harry was getting hard at the mere sight of this wondrous spectacle and quickly ducked beneath the covers, hoping that Oliver hadn't seen him staring at him _and_ hadn't noticed the proverbial 'tent' being 'pitched' right in the same room as him. Harry turned on to his side so as to avoid being caught.

Eager to take his mind off what was going on in front of him, Harry closed his mind and listened to the sounds of the night. He started to giggle when he heard moaning coming from Ron's bedroom. Oliver laughed, too.

"Glad to see that someone's having fun." Harry joked.

He looked up from beneath the covers to see Oliver standing in the centre of the room _butt-naked_! Harry almost exploded in the bed. Luckily, Oliver was facing towards the cupboard as he climbed into the sleeping bag, leaving his clothes strewn about the floor in a haphazard manner. It wasn't long before the two boys were fast asleep. Harry considered himself lucky if he got a wink of peaceful sleep that night…


	2. Wanting Oliver

**Chapter Two – Wanting Oliver**

_The grass by the Black Lake was a crisp green and swayed gently in the light summer breeze. Sunshine blazed down from the light blue sky, giving the world a comfortable warmth. Harry and Oliver were sat by the lake on their own, sitting on a red-and-white chequered picnic blanket. On the blanket was a range of food, from regular muggle snacks such as tuna sandwiches to less common wizarding foods like Potter's Delight. Potter's Delight had been created in celebration of Voldemort's death six years previously, when Harry had killed Professor Quirrell. Voldemort, lacking any visible form to attach to, had merely evaporated, never to be seen again. _

_The food looked delicious; a large mound of chocolate cake with whipped cream around the sides stood proudly in the centre of a large plate. Fresh, plump strawberries dotted the edges and a light sprinkling of chocolate flavoured vermicelli lay on top of the cake. In the centre of the dessert was a lightning bolt made out of caramel that ran down through the whole cake._

_Next to the cake were several small saucers of all manner of fruit; grapes, apple pieces, banana slices and watermelon segments were among the vast array of fruit on offer. It all looked divine._

_Oliver was sat opposite Harry in a tight, light blue vest, showing off the outline of his incredible abs and pecs, toned from years of playing Quidditch. He wore grey shorts that ended just above his knees. His legs were smooth and begged to be kissed and caressed right down to his bare feet. His hazel eyes were dazzling when the sunlight danced over his chiselled features, illuminating the air around him with a haze that only he could produce. Harry could feel himself swooning as he gazed upon Oliver's magnificent body. He felt overdressed in his vivid yellow t-shirt and denim jeans, although he wasn't wearing any footwear himself._

_Harry watched on in awe as Oliver picked up a piece of strawberry and, slowly and seductively, placed it in between his plump, pink lips. Oliver beckoned to Harry over the picnic blanket. Harry stumbled over the plates of food on the blanket, spilling many sandwiches and squashing countless pieces of pineapple and pear and many other fruits. Oliver giggled as he watched Harry struggle to make his way over to him._

_After having finally managed to traverse the many plates, Harry gazed into Oliver's eyes. Oliver winked at him. Harry knew what to do. He brought his hand up to Oliver's cheek and cupped it, gently stroking it with his thumb. Oliver gave out a breathy moan, pushing Harry to take the next step. He obliged him._

_Taking Oliver's other cheek in his free hand, Harry lowered his lips towards the strawberry. He gently passed over the bright fruit, the tips of his lips brushing softly over Oliver's own. The two boys whimpered at the initial contact. Oliver opened his mouth to let the strawberry fall in whilst cupping the back of Harry's head with his hands and pulling him into a passionate embrace. Harry moaned as Oliver's smooth hands swept through his wild, black mane, their tongues intertwining, taking the first steps of exploration. Harry's tongue darted around Oliver's mouth, brushing against the edges of the strawberry and giving Oliver an even sweeter taste. Harry wanted more. He __needed__ more._

_The plates were no longer on the blanket; they had been swept aside by Harry's feet as Oliver had took him into his arms. The blanket was now haphazardly strewn about the grass._

"_Harry…" Oliver moaned._

"Harry…"

"Harry!"

Harry woke with a start. He found himself still lying in his bed, with Oliver stood over him (still naked!) and shaking him vigorously to wake him up.

"Harry? Are you alright?" Oliver worried, "You were moaning in your sleep."

"What? Oh, erm… was I?"

"Yeah. And you seemed pretty excited, too. In fact, I'd say you're still pretty excited right now." Oliver laughed at his last statement.

It was true. Harry _was_ pretty excited. The evidence literally "stuck out".

"Urg…" Harry groaned, "What time is-"

His voice caught in his throat as he realised that Oliver was in a more-than-obvious state of undress. Harry could feel himself quickly turning a bright shade of red. Oliver didn't seem to have noticed.

"It's almost 10:00 a.m." Oliver stated, yawning.

He had a light stubble growing on his chin. Harry had often considered growing a beard or a moustache himself but had decided against it, with the reasoning that he didn't want to look as though he belonged in a forest living with wolves. He had preferred the shaven look anyways.

"_How can he be so casual in the nude?_"Harry thought to himself as he glanced up and down Oliver's body.

He sat up in the bed, eager to hide his arousal. He realised that this was a big mistake once he found himself staring at Oliver's "private quarters".

It was now Sunday morning. Harry and the others would need to be downstairs in the Great Hall ready for Sunday lunch in two hours. As Harry eventually woke himself up, Oliver was busy getting dressed and collecting his things.

"Where are you off to?" Harry asked.

He regretted asking when he realised that he sounded more like a clingy wife than he did a friend. Oliver answered his question, regardless.

"Dumbledore wants all the teachers and other staff members down in the Great Hall. Something about a big announcement. All I know is that he plans on introducing me to the rest of the school as the Quidditch coach."

"That reminds me. How's this whole Quidditch coach thing gonna work? Are there gonna be coaches for the other houses?"

"Oh, that's right. I didn't explain properly. I'm the Gryffindor Quidditch coach. Each of the other houses has their own coach. I met them when I applied for the Gryffindor position a few months ago. I can't remember their names, though. You'll find out when you go to the Great Hall, anyway."

Oliver had finished getting dressed and was now on his way out the door and down to the Great Hall, leaving Harry to get dressed. Harry did so quickly. Before he went downstairs, Harry took the black sheet off Hedwig's cage and let the bird out for some much-needed fresh air. He took her over to the window on his arm and let her fly free. After doing so, Harry made his way down to the common room.

To Harry's mild astonishment, Ron and Hermione hadn't been sitting down there waiting for him like they usually did.

"Randy sods…" Harry chuckled to himself, knowing what they had been up to the previous night.

It was coming up 11:45 a.m. by the time Ron and Hermione finally surfaced from their bedroom. Hermione's hair was even bushier than normal, striking out at odd angles from her head like some sort of over-excited Medusa head. Ron wore a dozy expression on his face as though he'd just found the world's largest chicken leg and had scoffed it until he could eat no more. Harry laughed at the sight of them.

"What's so funny, Harry?" Hermione asked, confused as to why he was laughing, her hair swinging from side to side as she shook her head in disapproval.

Harry was struggling to breathe as he continued to laugh. After several minutes, Harry finally found the ability to talk in between heavy breaths.

"How… was… your… night… last… night?" he panted, "Have fun?"

Ron and Hermione blushed a deep red.

"You heard us?" Hermione asked, highly embarrassed at finding out that she and her boyfriend had been heard.

"Yeah!" Harry giggled, his breathing beginning to return to normal.

"Wait a second", Ron interrupted, "Aren't the rooms supposed to be soundproof?"

"Hey, they are, aren't they?" Harry realised, "Then how come I was able to hear you two?"

The trio was puzzled as to why Harry was able to hear Ron and Hermione the previous night.

"I think that's something that we'll need to talk to Professor McGonagall about. After all, she _was_ the one who placed the anti-eavesdropping charms on the rooms." Hermione stated.

The time was fast approaching 11:50 a.m. now. Harry, Ron and Hermione wasted no time in heading for the Great Hall; none of them wanted to miss their Sunday lunch.

Harry had decided against telling Ron and Hermione about his dream the night before for the time being. Although it had been a very pleasant experience for Harry in that he was finally able to find somewhere that he could be with Oliver without anyone else finding out, it was unsettling to know that he talked and moaned in his sleep and, with the sound barriers between the rooms down, if he wasn't careful he'd blow his cover. Anybody would be able to overhear him if he was as nocturnally active as Oliver had made out. This was something that Harry was wanting to avoid at all costs. The fact that Oliver had been in the room when he had started moaning embarrassed him greatly.

The trio made it to the Great Hall with just a few minutes to spare. Each of the tables was as rowdy as ever, with the Gryffindors making the most raucous, and the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables close behind. The Slytherin table fell silent as Harry walked in. They scowled at him as they usually did.

_What were they looking at him for this time?_

The other tables, apart from Gryffindor, seemed to become quieter, too, as he entered the Great Hall.

"Hermione, do you have any idea why everyone's looking at me?" Harry asked whilst sitting down at the Gryffindor table.

"Mate, I think it might have something to do with today's Daily Prophet." Ron answered and held up a copy of the wizarding paper.

Harry's heart sank as he saw the front page news.

_The Boy Who Lived is GAY! by Rita Skeeter_

All attention was on Harry as he read over the story.

Hermione turned to Harry.

"I don't know how they managed to get this story published. They don't have any evidence to prove it. It's up to you how you approach this, Harry. You either deny it and say that they're just rumours, or you can get the whole ordeal out of the way and tell everyone the truth."

"I'd much rather get it over with." Harry responded, "I can already see that people wouldn't believe me if I told them they were just rumours, anyway."

Harry stood up from the table and pointed his wand at his throat. The Great Hall fell deadly silent as he did so.

_Sonorus!_

"It's true!" Harry's voice boomed across the hall, "It's all true! I'm gay! Some of you may look down at me now, even more so than you usually do", he gestured towards the Slytherin table, "but some of you might also begin to respect me more. Know that I am the same person that I have been and that I will always remain this way!"

Oliver was sat at the end of the Hall next to Hagrid. He watched on and felt a sudden surge of pride as Harry admitted to his schoolmates about his sexuality. Glancing upwards, he noticed a small tear in the corner of Hagrid's eye as Harry delivered his speech.

Harry finished his speech and quietly cast '_Quietus_', reducing his voice to its normal volume. Sitting back down at his table, he looked up at the teachers' table. Dumbledore was sat in his large, throne-like chair, with Professor McGonagall and Rubeus Hagrid sat next to him. Oliver was sitting next to Hagrid and smiling in Harry's direction. Oliver was dressed in the traditional red and gold Gryffindor Quidditch robes. Next to him slouched a small, pig-faced woman. She wore blue and bronze Quidditch robes. People began to whisper after seeing Oliver sat at the table.

"Is that…"

"It can't be…"

"What's Oliver Wood doing here?"

"She must be the Ravenclaw coach." Harry whispered to Ron whilst nodding at the revolting woman.

Ron nodded in agreement.

On the other side of Dumbledore sat Professors Slughorn, Sprout and Snape. There were two new faces there, as well. A long, slender man in yellow and black Quidditch robes showed him as the Hufflepuff Quidditch coach. Next to him sat a sour-faced, white-haired woman with sunk in cheeks and tightly pursed lips. She was dressed in the familiar green and silver Quidditch robes that Slytherin used. Dumbledore rose from his chair, his light blue eyes sparkling behind his half-moon spectacles.

"I would like to take this opportunity to make a few announcements. First and foremost, I must remind the fourth years not to aggravate the portrait of Sir Cadogan. It has come to my attention that many of you have found it amusing to taunt him about his manner of speech. Secondly, the new Quidditch season will commence in one week on Friday. This brings me to my final announcement. As you may have noticed, we have four new faces joining us at the table. On my left we have Coaches Rynold Hedgeforth and Milia Swampstead. Coach Hedgeforth will be coaching the Hufflepuff Quidditch team and Coach Swampstead will be coaching the Slytherin Quidditch team. On my right we have Coaches Griselda Snortson and Oliver Wood. Coach Snortson will be coaching the Ravenclaw Quidditch team and Coach Wood will be coaching the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Unfortunately, Madam Hooch has left us over the summer to pursue a career in professional Quidditch. However, she has agreed to come back to Hogwarts to referee in all of your games. Coach Hedgeforth will be giving flying lessons to the first years."

The Gryffindor table erupted into rapturous applause as they learned that Oliver Wood had returned to Hogwarts to pass on his Quidditch knowledge. Many of the girls began to swoon as they gazed at the gorgeous superstar. Oliver winked down at Harry. Harry blushed. Eventually, the noise died down, allowing Dumbledore to continue with his speech.

"As you can see, each house has their own Quidditch coach. It will be their jobs to prepare your teams for any matches that you may have. The first Quidditch match of the season will be Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff and will take place one week from this coming Friday. That's enough from me, I think. Now to let you all enjoy a delicious Sunday lunch."

A loud crack signalled the appearance of a vast array of platters filled with different vegetables and meats. Harry couldn't make his mind up about what to eat. There were mounds of mashed potato piled high onto several platters, fresh carrots and peas filled many bowls. Roast potatoes, turnip, cabbage, Yorkshire puddings, chicken, beef, lamb, pork! Everything seemed so delectable! Harry's stomach groaned and lurched in yearning. At his side, Ron was already gobbling down a chicken leg and had piled a bit of everything onto his plate. Harry laughed at Hermione when she rolled her eyes at her boyfriend's gluttonous feasting. Grabbing a little bit of everything, himself, Harry soon began to feed his hungry stomach. It felt fantastic as the delicious food fell into his waiting stomach.

As he ate, Oliver watched Harry out of the corner of his eye. The beautiful boy was sat laughing with his friends as he ate his Sunday lunch. There was something about Harry that kept Oliver feeling alive. He had felt this way since he had met Harry but the feeling seemed to be growing stronger with each passing day. He knew he had to do something soon. He kicked himself for thinking this way; Harry might have been gay but that didn't automatically grant him a place in the young wizard's heart. No. He'd have to find a way to win Harry's affection, by any means necessary.


	3. Coaching

**Chapter Three – Coaching**

It was 4:57 on the Monday afternoon. Oliver had made his way down to the Quidditch pitch ten minutes prior to wait for the Gryffindor team, particularly Harry. The way that Harry flew his broom had always been a very exhilarating experience for him; ever since Oliver had first met Harry when he was only in his first year, he had always considered the boy to be of incomparable beauty. Those emerald green eyes glistened behind his glasses, his black hair fluttering wildly as he soared through the air with incredible speed. Oliver had kept a close eye on Harry during his first Quidditch match to make sure that nothing would happen to him; to Oliver, he was far too precious to lose, both in Quidditch and his life.

Oliver stood in the changing rooms in his Quidditch robes, waiting eagerly for the team to make their way down to the pitch. The room was small and cramped, with old, worn-leather benches lining the cracked and chipped walls. A large duffle bag was stuffed in a corner of the room, filled with extra Quidditch equipment and spare robes. Behind Oliver was his desk. The top was covered in all manner of Quidditch paraphernalia, much of it having been collected whilst Oliver was studying at Hogwarts, himself. Little figurines of past Quidditch players and several miniature golden snitches moved around the desktop. The seekers of the figurines all seemed to be trying to catch each of the snitches on their mini brooms, but to no avail. A small, muggle clock stood at the edge of the desk. Many of the figurines were trying to push it off the edge with their brooms, having a clear dislike for anything muggle-related, much to Oliver's chagrin. Oliver, himself, had been raised by his muggle grandmother after his parents had abandoned him as a small child. The clock had been a gift from her shortly before Oliver had left home for his first year at Hogwarts. It was by no miracle that the clock was still working even after over ten years, thanks to the use of magic to keep the battery running.

It wasn't long before the team members filed in through the changing room door, with Harry smiling at Oliver as he walked in. Oliver could feel himself blushing slightly, but yet Harry, nor anyone else for that matter, had seemed to have noticed. The team seemed to have all gotten changed into their Quidditch robes beforehand, apart from Harry and Ron.

"Did we miss the memo or something?" Ron laughed, realising that the others were already changed.

"It's fine. Just head into my office back there and get changed. And be quick about it; we'll need as much practice as possible if we want to beat Slytherin this year." Oliver replied.

The boys went into the office at the back of the changing rooms, taking their bags with them. Oliver managed to sneak a slight glance at Harry's rear before turning back to the other team members.

"You never change, do you, Oliver?" Ginny admired him.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Ginny." Oliver responded.

"You still consider yourself to be a part of the team, don't you?"

Oliver remained silent, becoming slightly embarrassed at being caught out about his use of the word 'we' instead of 'you'.

"So what have you been up to since leaving Hogwarts?" Ginny asked.

"I played as reserve keeper for Puddlemere United. There just too many arguments amongst the teammates that I couldn't stand being there anymore. It was a really cold atmosphere. So I left. That was last year some time. Then a few months back I noticed an job advertisement for the position of Gryffindor Quidditch coach in the Daily Prophet. Naturally, I applied. But the biggest shock for me was that _nobody_ else had applied for the job. The other houses' coaching positions were swarmed with applications, or so I've heard."

"It can't have been that bad, surely." Ron muttered as he came back out of the office now changed into his Quidditch robes.

"You'd be surprised at the things that they argued over. It was just so stupid! One time I was caught in the middle of an argument between Dean Finnigan, one of the reserve chasers, and Andy Crybaugh, the main keeper. Andy was blaming Dean for him missing the quaffle and letting it go in during one of our practice sessions. Then the other players started joining in to defend Dean since it _was_ Andy's job to make sure that the quaffle didn't go in. That was when I'd had enough. I handed in my letter of resignation the day after."

"Wow… They all seem so friendly together when they're on the pitch."

"That's all just a show. Really, none of the players get along like a team should. Hell, they ought to take a leaf out of your book!" Oliver smiled, "How long does Harry wanna take in getting changed?!"

"I'm changed, I'm changed." Harry muttered as he walked out of Oliver's office.

"Alright, well if we're all ready" Oliver began, "it's time I gave you one of my good ol' pep talks!"

The team moaned; Oliver's pep talks might have always been highly inspirational but that didn't stop them from being incredibly boring and drawn-out.

Ron and the rest of the team had all but fell asleep as Oliver droned on and on about the necessity of good teamwork and how they would need to practice extra hard each week. Harry, on the other hand, was looking at Oliver intently. Oliver noticed Harry's obvious interest in him, unlike the other times when he had been completely oblivious to Harry's infatuation with him; not even when he slept in his room complete with posters of him on the walls, nor when he woke him up with Harry staring directly at his cock. Up until now, Oliver had thought that his attempts at seducing Harry were failing. Now he could see that Harry was very much attracted to him. He wanted to take him there and then in the changing rooms. It didn't take a genius to work out how much of a bad idea it would be, though. Not only would there be no room for Oliver to screw Harry's brains out, he didn't think that the other teammates would be very comfortable with their coach and their seeker going at it like rabbits in front of them.

Oliver decided to wait until the practice session was over and everybody had left until he confronted Harry.

"Right, then! Let's get you all onto the pitch. I want you to do ten laps and then come back to the centre. Go, go, go!"

The team sprang to life as the words barely left Oliver's mouth. They may as well have ran from the changing rooms with the speed of their departure. Harry remained behind.

"Oliver?" he asked, "Are you considered to be a teacher?"

"I'm not too sure, Harry. I'll check with Professor Dumbledore later. Why do you ask?" Oliver had a feeling that he already knew the answer.

"No reason. I was just wondering…"

"Go, go, go! Out onto the pitch or I'll make you do fifteen laps!" Oliver joked, jabbing Harry in the ribs in order to get him to move.

Harry did as he was told.

The sky was a bright blue colour, with only a few wispy clouds dotted here and there. The sun shone brightly down upon the goal hoops, casting long, thin shadows across the luscious grass. The stands towered high above the field.

"Ten laps starting from… NOW!" Oliver shouted.

He watched on as the team flew around the pitch with lightning speed. Harry was in the lead as Oliver had expected. It took around twenty minutes for them to finish lapping the stadium. Out of breath, the team members returned to the centre.

"You all look exhausted! You can have a quick ten minute break to catch your breath and have a drink and whatnot. But after that, it's gonna be two whole hours of solid practice!" Oliver warned, "I need to talk to Professor Dumbledore right now but I shouldn't be too long."

Oliver flew off on his broom towards the castle, heading for Dumbledore's office. The group sat down on the grass and began to talk amongst themselves.

"Ron, I haven't told Hermione about this yet but the other night when Oliver was sleeping in my room I had a dream about him." Harry said.

"Really? What was it about?" Ron asked.

"It was strange. Me and Oliver were sat by the Black Lake on our own and we were having a picnic. He put a strawberry in his mouth and told me to go over to him. Then we started kissing. The strange thing was that it didn't feel like a dream. It felt _completely_ real. We were gonna go further but that was when Oliver woke me up. He said that I'd been moaning in my sleep."

"I really don't know what to say to that, Harry. I think it'd be best if you talked to Hermione about it. She's always been good with emotions and all of that shit."

"You're right there, mate. I'll talk to her about it after practice. I can only imagine what Oliver's gonna put us through." Harry laughed.

Landing in the courtyard with a gentle thud, Oliver dismounted his broom and made his way to Dumbledore's office. He needed to know whether he was considered a teacher or not so that he could at least try dating Harry. Even if he was able to, it would be difficult for Oliver because of Rita Skeeter's persistence to scoop the next big headline. She had already received numerous amount of praise for unceremoniously outing Harry. Whilst it had been a relatively easy process for Harry, Oliver was not guaranteed the same reception. How would his former teammates react when they found out that their reserve keeper was gay? Right now he needed the advice of the wise, old wizard who had always been there to lend a helping hand when it was needed. It felt strange as he walked through the familiar courtyard and up to the brass phoenix staircase.

"Toffee bonbons." Oliver muttered.

Dumbledore had always had a bit of a sweet tooth and this was only proven by the passwords he used to his office; he had always used the names of different muggle sweets.

The phoenix roared into life with a deafening groan as it began to swirl upwards, revealing the staircase up to Dumbledore's office. Oliver stepped onto the moving platform as it ascended and eventually stepped off once it stopped. He knocked on the brown, wooden door.

"Come in." Dumbledore called, "Ah, Oliver. How good it is to see you again. I trust that you are enjoying coaching the Gryffindors?"

"Yes, sir."

"Please, call me Albus. You are not my student anymore, Oliver. You may call me by my first name. Now, how can I help you?"

"Well I was just wondering whether I was considered a teacher here or not."

"Hmmmmm… there are reasons as to why you might be considered a teacher. With the responsibilities given to you being rather similar to those given to a teacher, it is fair to title you as such. However, your job position does not affect the overall grades of our students. It is, therefore, safe to assume that you are not a teacher here since you will not be grading the students on Quidditch playing. Whilst you are not as restricted as a teacher you will still be expected to behave in a certain manner. For example, you will need to show a duty of care over the students at Hogwarts. If you see trouble brewing it will be up to you to help prevent the fight. You are not able to add or deduct house points; that is a teacher-only privilege."

"That explains a lot. It lifts a lot of the pressure off my shoulder, too. It feels great to-"

"Oliver. What was the reason you asked me for?" Dumbledore interrupted, "There is something you aren't telling me. I'm not pressuring you into telling me what it is, that is entirely your decision, but know that I am here for you and you can have every confidence that I will keep what we discuss here a secret. Now, would you like to tell me?"

"I need to tell someone or it's going to eat me up from the inside. Nobody else knows this but… I'm gay."

Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled with understanding behind his half-moon spectacles; he had been in this very situation himself when he was only sixteen years-old. The wizarding world was just as accepting back then as it was now. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the muggle world until only the last twenty-to-thirty years when homosexuality had become common place and the LGBT movement was spreading rapidly. After a while, Dumbledore spoke.

"I'm guessing that your earlier question regarding your status as a teacher was not just for your information. Would I be correct in saying so?"

"Yes…" Oliver muttered.

"And would I also be correct in saying that you are concerned over teacher-student relations?"

"Yes."

"Please take a seat, Oliver. We have much to discuss."

Dumbledore gestured to a chair in front of his desk. This was going to be a long, difficult discussion, and Oliver knew it…

Harry and Ron were talking about people that they liked when Oliver came back from the castle on his broom. As he touched down on the soft, green grass he smiled at Harry and winked, the whites of his hazel-coloured eyes looked red, as though he had came down with a bad case of hay fever. The others in the group looked up from the grass at Oliver, waiting eagerly for his next command. The ten minutes that Oliver promised had soon became thirty.

Harry could see the red around Oliver's eyes and was soon wondering why.

"Oliver, are you OK? Your eyes look all red and puffy."

"Ah, I'm fine." Oliver sniffed, "Just got a bit of hay fever."

Harry turned to look at Ron.

"The pollen count's really low today." Harry muttered quietly, "There's no way that he could have hay fever."

Ron nodded in agreement. Oliver began to give each team member a particular aspect of their performance to practice on. Ron had been asked to practice catching quaffles thrown by Ginny and the other two chasers, who had been given several performance-enhancing potions to temporarily increase their throwing power so that they could at least provide him with a challenge and improve their natural abilities as chasers. The beaters on the team were given the task of attempting to destroy several moving targets by hitting the bludgers at them. It was of no surprise to the other team members that they had been designed to look like Slytherins.

"Just for some extra motivation." Oliver laughed as he explained the choice of design.

Finally, Oliver turned to Harry.

"I want you to increase your speed. You might be a good flyer, but there is always room for improvement."

"What do you want me to do? Catch the snitch in a certain amount of time or something?" Harry asked.

"No." Oliver responded, "Instead, I want you to act as though _I'm_ the snitch. I'm a much faster flyer than you. That means that you'll have to work harder and fly faster if you wanna catch me."

Harry nodded in understanding. Even though he maintained a cool demeanour on the outside, he was overflowing with excitement at the prospect of chasing Oliver.

"I'll give you the chase of your life." Harry winked at Oliver, making his flirting very obvious to the other team members.

"Right, then! Let's get to work. We've got two hours of hard practice ahead of us." Oliver announced.

Ron made his way to the goal hoops with the Ginny and the other chasers closely behind, a large, red box filled with quaffles followed. The beaters rose up into the air after the targets. The bludgers were released soon after and had been enchanted to head for only the beaters and the targets, ensuring that the other team members would not be attacked.

"Ready?" Oliver asked whilst gripping the end of his broom, "Catch me if you can!"

He boosted off the ground with a whoosh, leaving behind a small cloud of dust. Harry followed on his Firebolt. The two boys whizzed around the Quidditch pitch, almost being knocked from their brooms several times as they weaved between the different players. A bludger barely missed Harry's head as it was hit towards one of the targets.

"Careful, Harry! You don't wanna hurt that pretty head of yours, do you?" Oliver flirted.

"_Is he flirting with me?_" Harry asked himself, confused.

"Is that all you've got? I want more speed! Give it more power!" Oliver shouted.

Harry's libido-crazed mind went into overdrive. He couldn't believe it. Oliver _was_ flirting with him! With a hormone-powered thrust, Harry a sudden surge of speed and headed directly for Oliver, a mixture of adrenaline and lust coursing through his veins. Smirking to himself, Oliver bolted away from the seeker, almost crashing directly into Ginny in his haste.

"Watch it, Oliver!" she shouted, slightly frustrated at being distracted from her practice.

"Sorry!" he apologised.

Harry was gaining on him now. Bit by bit, he was edging closer to Oliver robes which were fluttering and flapping as he zoomed around the pitch. His fingertips were almost touching the fabric when Oliver shot downwards. Harry found himself with a mouthful of bristles as Oliver's broom struck up at him from below. He followed with fierce determination; he _would_ catch the keeper.

The change in direction became too much for Oliver; he lurched forward from the momentum and found himself clinging on tightly.

"OLIVER!" Harry screamed, trying to grab onto his hand.

Oliver swung his hand up towards Harry's but missed and lost his grip with the other completely. With nothing to hold on to, Oliver began the terrifying plummet towards the pitch one-hundred feet below. The others were now heading directly for Oliver, trying to save him. He was falling faster than any of the brooms could go. He closed his eyes as he neared the ground, waiting for the inevitable impact that would surely smash him to pieces.

He gazed up at Harry and smiled; his gorgeous, brown eyes were filling with tears. Harry was crying now. White hot tears poured out of his glistening, green eyes and streamed down his cheeks.

It had all happened so fast. One minute Harry was enjoying chasing Oliver and the next he found himself weeping at his crush's inevitable fate.

Thirty feet… twenty feet… ten feet…

Harry squeezed his eyes shut, desperate to stop Oliver from dying.

"_No! Please, not Oliver! Anyone but him!_" his mind screamed.

A loud crack erupted around him, followed by a huge sensation of warmth that swallowed him whole. Instinctively, he opened his eyes. He was dumbfounded to find that he was hovering two feet above the ground with Oliver hurtling towards him from above. The other team members stared on in shock as they witnessed Harry appearing beneath Oliver in a bright flash of brilliant golden light.

Harry kicked the back of his Firebolt and blasted upwards to meet Oliver. Wrapping his legs around the broom, he opened his arms to catch the falling keeper. Oliver crashed into Harry's open arms, sending the pair hurtling towards the grass once more.

It was a small drop to the ground from there. The upwards momentum from the Firebolt had slowed the boys down considerably, making the impact on the grass much lighter than what it would have originally been. Harry and Oliver tumbled from the Firebolt onto the grass in a heap.

Harry held Oliver tightly, not wanting to let go of him for fear of something else happening to him. He was breathing heavily, taking in every part of Oliver's scent, and it was heavenly. His heart was thundering against the entrapment of his ribcage. His mind was made up; he was going to ask Oliver out.

Oliver could feel Harry's chest expanding and contracting beneath him as he held him close. The fact that Harry had endangered his own life to save Oliver's showed his affection for him. Oliver snuggled deep into Harry, not wanting to leave him.

The other team members were making their way up to the two boys after having made a hasty descent and dismounting their brooms. Ron and Ginny dashed towards them.

"Harry! Oliver! Are you two OK? We thought we'd lost you! What happened? How did you do that just now?" Ginny bombarded the pair with questions.

"Ginny, how about you slow down and let them pick themselves up?" Ron suggested, agitated at his sister's complete disregard for the situation at hand.

Oliver stared up into Harry's crystalline eyes. The tears were still in Oliver's eyes, except now they were not of sadness; they were of joy. He could no longer resist the urge. Grabbing the grass at either side of them, Oliver heaved himself up, lining his face up with Harry's.

"My hero…" he muttered.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but was cut off. Oliver's lips crashed down onto Harry's own delivering a bruising kiss to the seeker. Oliver's tongue probed at Harry's lips, begging for him to open up and let him explore new territory. Harry obliged, releasing his own tongue in the process. Tears streamed down his face as the kiss deepened. They broke apart when Ginny cleared her throat to get their attention.

Oliver pulled himself up from the grass. The group was staring at him after witnessing the kiss.

"So _you're_ the gay Puddlemere United player!" Harry realised, dragging himself up from the ground.

"Yeah. What gave it away?" Oliver laughed.

He pulled Harry close, wrapping an arm around him.

"So…" Ginny began, "Aren't you going to tell us about what happened up there?"

"I'll tell you all back in the changing rooms. I think you all have questions that you want answering and after what just happened I think I'll call this practice session off for now." Oliver responded.

And with that, the team made its way to the changing rooms. Whilst Oliver had a lot of questions heading his way, he also had to make sure that nobody else would be able to overhear him. The last thing he needed was for this to get out to the press.

A blue beetle flew past as Oliver headed towards the changing rooms, holding Harry at his side. Something about the creature didn't feel right but he shook the feeling off; it was probably just the shock of his near-death experience getting the better of him…


	4. After Practice Broomcare

**Chapter Four – After Practice Broomcare**

The team filed back into the changing rooms. It had been a terrifying experience for all of them, particularly Harry and Oliver. Oliver was ecstatic that Harry had been able to save him despite being almost a hundred feet above him, but he was extremely confused as to how Harry had managed to apparate whilst on a broom; brooms were equipped with anti-apparition charms in order to prevent Quidditch players from apparating during a match. What was an ever bigger shock was that Harry had been able to pull this off _even with_ the anti-apparition charms put in place around Hogwarts.

Harry's heart fluttered as Oliver walked him back into the changing rooms. He was very dazed after the fall but Oliver's kiss quickly made him clear-headed. The kiss was fierce, yet passionate, and filled Harry with so much pleasure to finally be able to lay his hands on Oliver. But his mind was still swimming with questions; had Oliver kissed Harry simply for saving his life? Or did he kiss him as a sign of both gratitude _and_ love? How had managed to apparate to catch him even with the anti-apparition charms in place? Harry needed answers.

Ron, Ginny and the others sat down on the old benches with an loud creak. The age of the changing rooms began to show when one of the wooden legs that held the benches up snapped beneath Ron's weight. The team burst into laughter at the sight of the leg shooting from the bench and clattering into the opposite wall. Oliver walked up to his desk whilst the others were beginning to get changed. Although many of them wanted to inundate him questions, they figured that it would best to leave him alone to his thoughts after what had happened; he had almost died, after all. They decided amongst themselves that they would only ask him one question each.

To the others' surprise Harry hadn't changed into his regular clothes. Oliver himself was puzzled at this.

"Aren't you getting changed, Harry?" Ron asked.

"I just need to talk to Oliver, first."

The others snickered at Harry. They knew that he was concocting some sort of plan to get his hands on Oliver. They had known for a while now that Harry had a thing for Oliver, except Ron who was as clueless about it as he was most other things. Even the posters in Harry's room didn't suggest anything to him.

"So who wants to start the questions? Amanda?" he gestured towards one of the beaters.

She was a short girl, with a large frame that was perfect for beating. Her hair was drawn up in a tight ponytail at the back of her head and pulled her forehead up, giving her a constant look of surprise. She spoke with a surprisingly silky voice.

"Erm… How long have you known you were gay?" she asked.

"Since my third year here. I know, it's taken a long time for me to come out."

Another girl called Jessica joined in with the interrogation.

"Have you ever fancied any of your teammates? If you have, who was it?"

"As a matter of fact, I have. And I'm not talking about him with him in this very room."

Harry's jaw dropped. Was Oliver talking about _him_?! He'd wait until the others had left before he asked Oliver such a sensitive question. Ron was joining in with the interrogation now.

"Do any of the players at Puddlemere United know about you?"

"Nope. I don't think I'll ever tell them. They can find out for themselves. If there's one place that I would never even think about returning to, it would be that horrible team. As I said before, the number of arguments they had was pathetic. And the things that they argued about were even worse!"

The others soon found themselves breaking their own "one question" rule. The questioning lasted for well over half an hour and Oliver was beginning to show signs of annoyance. The clock on his desk read 6:20 p.m.

Finally growing tired of the endless stream of questions, he spoke up.

"That's enough questions, I think. Right now, I need to speak to Harry about something _Quidditch-related_. It's not what all of you are thinking of."

Oliver lied about the last part. The truth was that he was going to do everything in his power to make sure that he would keep the seeker. Now that Harry was within his grasp he wasn't going to let go easily.

The others filed out of the changing rooms, with Ron sending a wink back in Harry's direction. Ginny thumped him on the arm as they left through the door. Once the door was firmly shut, Oliver turned round to face Harry.

"So…" he muttered, "How was the kiss?"

Harry blushed. His dreams were coming true; _Oliver Wood was coming on to him!_

"I-er-erm-er-it was good." Harry stammered, his cheeks flushing a deep fuchsia.

"Good? You don't sound so sure. How about you have a second helping to help you decide?"

Oliver became slightly embarrassed by his unexpectedly-forward manner. The last thing he wanted to do was to be too forward and scare Harry off. Oliver had scrapped the idea of slowly gaining Harry's affection when Harry had saved his life. Now he wanted Harry. All of him. And he wasn't going to waste any time before getting to the good stuff.

Oliver paced up to Harry and hugged him tightly, touching his forehead against his, their eyes meeting in a brilliant mix of hazel and emerald.

"I want you so bad, Harry. Thank you for saving my life." Oliver whispered.

"Oliver… This means so much to me. Please, kiss me again."

Oliver brought his lips down to touch Harry's in a gentle kiss. Harry moaned as he was finally able to hold Oliver in his arms. It felt so good. It felt so right. He jumped up onto the figurine-covered desk. Seeing what was happening, the little people scattered with many taking flight on their brooms.

Harry deepened the kiss. He licked at Oliver's lips trying to encourage him to open up. Oliver obliged and Harry soon found himself probing around his mouth. He brought his hands up to Oliver's back, their tongues fighting for supremacy. He applied pressure to every muscle that he could find, eager to please his new-found lover by relaxing his worn-out muscles. Oliver brought his hands up behind Harry's head and cupped it. Both boys were beginning to become increasingly hot and sweaty from the kissing. Their trousers began to constrict around their hardening cocks.

Oliver pulled away from Harry with a cheeky grin and ran to the other side of the changing room. He was teasing him. Grinning widely, Harry jumped down from the desk and gave chase, just as he had done during practice. Except this time there was no danger of either of them falling to their deaths.

Oliver ran away from the wall as Harry dived for him. Harry crashed into the wall with a thud. He started to laugh as Oliver fell over his robes in his haste to get away from the hormone-crazed teenager.

"Oof!" he grunted.

"Aha! You won't get away from me, Ollie!" Harry dived on top of him, grabbing his wrists and holding him there. He straddled him, pinning him tighter to the floor.

Pinned to the floor by his wrists and with nowhere else to run, Oliver surrendered to Harry. Their lips met again. As Harry resumed caressing every inch of Oliver's body, he found his groin to be painfully tight. Oliver must have been experiencing the same discomfort because he seemed to be shifting uncomfortably beneath him. The two boys looked at each other in desire. Harry lifted himself up away from Oliver and began to take off his Quidditch robes.

Oliver watched in awe as Harry stripped in front of him. First to go were his trousers. He turned away from Oliver and bent over as he pulled the fabric from legs, waving his firm arse in the air.

"You ought to be careful waving that thing around. Who knows what you could do to someone." Oliver laughed.

Harry chuckled in response. Turning back round to face Oliver, he pulled his shirt off. Slowly and tenderly, the fabric rose above his stomach revealing the toned abs beneath. A small line of hair trailed down from his naval to beneath his waistline where he wore white boxer shorts. Oliver gulped as Harry's pecs became visible, the shirt now coming completely away from his body and falling to the floor. Harry was visibly hard; his underwear bulged at the front as his raging cock fought to free itself. He lowered his hands to his waist and slid his thumbs beneath the elastic. He was about to pull the underwear down until he saw an opportunity to torment Oliver. He revealed the subtle V shape just beneath the elastic and then stopped, much to Oliver's great disappointment.

"Don't stop!" Oliver moaned, "I want to see more of that hot body!"

"Hehe… all in good time, Ollie, all in good time." Harry taunted, "It's your turn to strip."

"Fine." Oliver muttered as he stood up from the floor, "But I'm gonna make you wait twice as long for teasing me!"

"Ah-ah-ah!" Harry shouted, running over to his bag and taking out his wand, "_Tollere Vestimentum_!"

A surge of yellow light erupted from Harry's wand and zoomed towards Oliver, catching onto his waist. Oliver was thrown to the floor as the spell worked its way around his legs, unbuckling his belt and pulling his trousers down and over his feet. Before he knew it, he was laying on the floor of the changing rooms with his Quidditch trousers beside him. His shoulder pads had fell off during the fall. He lay there for a while, catching his breath, in just his white Quidditch shirt and a red pair of boxer briefs. Oliver was noticeably larger than Harry beneath the boxer briefs as his cock began to pulsate and throb against the fabric. Harry's mouth watered as he gazed upon Oliver's smooth, tanned legs. The muscles in his thighs and calves stood out prominently.

"Hey! Sneaky little bugger, aren't you?" Oliver chuckled.

"I'm an impatient man. Better not keep me waiting!" Harry winked, turning around and waggling his arse in Oliver's direction.

Oliver began to pull his shirt up in an agonisingly slow fashion. His Quidditch-defined abs turned Harry on to no end, the deep lines between the muscles seemingly going on forever. Time seemed to slow down as Oliver pulled his shirt up and over his pecs, neck and head. Harry couldn't help but moan as he watched the striptease. He walked over to Oliver and placed his hand on his chest.

"Oliver…" he muttered, his voice becoming hoarse, "I want you…"

"You have me…" Oliver breathed back.

The two boys pressed their crotches together, their erections rubbing against each other through the fabric of their underwear. They moaned loudly from the friction of each movement. The feelings were intense and thundered through the two boys' systems. They craved more; they craved the feeling of the other's flesh touching their own.

"_Tollere Vestimenta!_"

Their underwear flew from their waists with ferocious speed. They groaned loudly as the fabric brushed against the heads of their swollen cocks, stimulating their senses. Oliver placed his lips onto Harry's once more, going into an ever deeper kiss than before. For the first time since he left Puddlemere United, Oliver felt alive. Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he showed Harry just how much he cared for him.

He took a hold of Harry's cock and slowly began to stroke it up and down the shaft. He could feel Harry doing the same for him. He broke the kiss and buried his head into Harry's shoulder, sucking and nibbling on every inch of skin he could find. Harry moaned as the sensations began to course through his body, a mixture of pleasure and pain pushing him dangerously close to the edge of climax.

"Oliver…" he gasped, "If you keep doing that I won't last long…"

"It's fine, Har-mmph… I want you to come for me…" Oliver was getting close now, "Together?"

"Ngh… T-together…" Harry smiled.

The two boys locked lips once more. They groaned loudly into each other's mouth as the orgasms began to thunder through their systems, thick streams of hot, sticky cum erupting out of their cocks and up onto their chest and abs. They held each other tightly as the sensations continued to surge through their bodies, squeezing their eyes shut.

They stood holding each other for a while after the orgasm had passed, kissing passionately.

Having finished their love-making session, Harry reached for his wand with the intention of using a few cleaning spells to clean the two of them up. Oliver grabbed his arm as he picked up the wand.

"No magic. I want to clean you myself. You still feel tense after earlier. You need someone to give you a massage and help you relax."

"But there aren't any bathtubs in the shower rooms."

"My office has a fireplace that's connected to the floo network in the school. We can use that to get to my living quarters which has one. Pick up your stuff and we'll go there now."

Harry nodded in understanding and began to gather his things, with Oliver staring at his firm, round arse as he did so. After packing his clothes and everything into his bag, he walked with Oliver into the office.

It was fairly spacious, but contained hardly any décor. A bare desk stood in one corner of the room. The walls were cracked, much like the ones out in the changing rooms. The floor was cold, hard concrete with only a small rug beneath the desk. The fireplace stood at the end of the room. It looked as though it hadn't been used in years; dust lined the mantelpiece, giving it a think grey coating. On top of it stood what looked like a fresh jar of floo powder.

The pair walked up to the fireplace. Grabbing a handful of floo powder each, Harry and Oliver stepped into the fireplace together.

"Isn't this a bit dangerous?" Harry worried, "I always got told that if more than one person used the same fireplace at once they would end up merging into one person when they arrived at the other end."

"Psh. What a load of bullshit. The Ministry made that up so that those who use the floo network would run out of floo powder faster. You see, up to three people can use any one fireplace at the same time. Once the Ministry realised this, they started making up horror stories in order to stop people from saving up their floo powder."

"Seems like something the Ministry would do."

"Yeah. Anyway, shall we get going? After three we both shout 'Wood is the keeper'. Ready?"

The last time that Harry had used the floo network it hadn't been a very pleasant experience; in his second year he had inadvertently ended up in Borgin & Burkes.

"Ready as I'll ever be." Harry lied.

"OK, then. One… two… THREE!"

"Wood is the keeper!" they shouted in unison, with Oliver throwing the powder into the fireplace.

A bright green flame engulfed the pair and vanished as soon as it appeared.

Meanwhile, back in the changing rooms a blue beetle scuttled up the wall and out of one of the open windows, a green quill clutched within its pincers…


	5. Romancing Harry

**Chapter Five – Romancing Harry**

The fireplace in Oliver's living quarters erupted into life, a bright green flame billowing out as Oliver and Harry strode into the room. It had been an unexpectedly comfortable experience for Harry, since he thought that he would end up somewhere that would most likely get him expelled, like a teacher's living quarters. He shuddered at the thought of Snape sitting in his lounge chair as he stumbled naked out of his fireplace. No doubt Snape would try everything he could to get Harry expelled if this had actually happened, not that he didn't already try it anyway.

Harry glanced around the room, taking in his new surroundings. It was square-shaped and fairly spacious. A deep red carpet covered the floor, with matching gold wallpaper pasted onto the walls. A leather two-seater sofa sat in front of the now-flickering fire, the soft, orange light dancing around the room and giving it a comfortable, warm glow. Along the walls were several brown bookcases filled with Quidditch books. At the back of the room was a doorway branching off into two other rooms. With the lighting being so dim, Harry could only make out the shadowy figure of what appeared to be a large, circular bathtub. He came to the conclusion that he must have been looking at the bathroom. Harry guessed that the other room was Oliver's bedroom. He hoped that the night would end there; it had been so great so far and he wanted to end it on an even higher note. On the wall above the doorway was a small clock. Harry was shocked when he saw that the time read 7:10 p.m.

Oliver could see the shock on his face.

"If you're in a rush you could always just go into the bathroom and get cleaned and changed quickly. We don't need to take a bath together tonight if you have somewhere to be. We can leave it to another night." Oliver walked up to Harry and touched their noses together, their eyes meeting.

The gentle glow from the fireplace illuminated one side of their faces, leaving the other in shadow. Harry swooned as he gazed up into Oliver's crystalline eyes and then down at his incredibly toned stomach. Harry was noticeably less built than Oliver and even voiced this thought aloud. Oliver had found Harry's low self-confidence to be an endearing trait to him, and only made him want to hold Harry for longer. He hoped that Harry would stay with him so that they could bathe together but he knew that with this being Harry's final year his NEWT exams would need all the attention that he could give them. And if that meant that Oliver would have to wait until the NEWTs were over, he would. He'd hold onto Harry for as long as he could.

"I'm staying with you. Tonight. I want to wake up next to you." Harry replied.

Oliver's eyes began to fill with tears as he heard the words leaving Harry's mouth. Maybe, just maybe, this seeker was a keeper and Oliver was going to make sure that nothing would happen to him. Two boys kissed for what must have been the seventh time within the past hour. It was brimming with passion. Eventually, Oliver broke the kiss.

"Make yourself at home. I'll go and run the bath for us now." Oliver winked with his adorably sexy smile.

He turned and paced out of the living area, through the doorway and into the bathroom, his tanned bubble-butt wiggling happily behind. Harry was mesmerised by his hypnotic movements.

After placing his Firebolt, robes and other items onto one side of the sofa, Harry sat down on the other side. The leather was very cold against his skin, feeling as though he had been pricked with several small needles. He almost jumped out of his skin. Oliver must have been watching Harry from the bathroom because he laughed heartily as he flew from the sofa. Harry heard the water begin to flow from the taps. Seeing that Oliver had his back towards him, Harry had an idea.

"_Time for some payback for laughing at me, Ollie!_" he thought to himself.

He knew what he was going to do; he was going to charge towards Oliver and tackle him into the bathtub. Harry bolted directly at him. Luckily, the carpet in the living area insulated the sound of his footsteps, meaning that Oliver wasn't able to hear the hormone-crazed teen heading directly for him. Harry was getting closer to his target, fierce intent visible in his eyes. As Harry reached the doorway into the bathroom, Oliver swept his hand behind him and gestured for the door to close.

_Wham!_

Unable to react to the sudden movement, Harry crashed straight into the door. Oliver burst into fits of laughter as he heard Harry smack into the wood.

"If you're gonna try and tackle me from behind, Harry, you might wanna check that there aren't any _mirrors_ in the room I'm in!" he chortled.

Rubbing his aching head, Harry opened the door to the bathroom. He realised his mistake when he noticed a tall mirror standing against the wall behind Oliver.

"The bath's full. Time to get in, hot stuff." Oliver flirted and gestured towards the tub, climbing in himself.

He sighed in relief as he let the hot water soothe his aching muscles; a bruise had appeared on his ribs from where Harry had caught him earlier during the practice session.

"Now that's one piece of wood I could do without. But I've got another that I'll never get tired of." Harry winked at Oliver.

He stepped graciously into the calm, soothing water. It felt heavenly against his bare skin as he lowered himself into the hot, flowing liquid. Eventually, he was sat down in the tub but shifted uncomfortably as the muscles in his back constricted and sent small arcs of pain through his body.

"Ow."

"Are you alright, Harry?" Oliver asked, voice full of concern, "You look like you're in a lot of pain."

"I'm- argh… I'm fine."

He pulled Harry over towards him, with Harry wincing as he did so.

"You're not fine at all. Here. Rest your back against my stomach and I'll help you relax."

Harry did as he was told. Oliver opened his legs and let Harry slide on top of him, his wild, black hair dangling just at the side of Oliver's head. Oliver's limp cock rested just between the cheeks of his arse.

"Just relax and I promise I'll make you feel better." Oliver said and kissed Harry on the cheek.

The kiss was light but left a lasting impression on Harry; he felt himself begin to melt into Oliver's arms. Oliver picked up a yellow sponge from the side of the tub, along with a purple bar of soap. He dipped them both into the water and started spreading soap onto the sponge.

"It's not very romantic in here," Oliver commented, "but I can soon fix that."

Waving one hand in the air, several candles around the tub were lit. Simultaneously, the lights in the bathroom went out, leaving only the candlelight behind. It soon became a paradise where Harry and Oliver could bathe and wash each other in complete peace. The whole atmosphere was enchanting. Harry considered himself to be extremely lucky that he had finally managed to find someone to call his own. His dreams were coming true as Oliver began to slowly massage his pecs and chest with the sponge, pressing gently in the places where Harry could feel his muscles beginning to knot. He moaned as the relief of the aching spread through his system. With each press from Oliver's hand and each stroke of the sponge, Harry could feel himself becoming light-headed. It was heaven, and he never wanted it to end. The sensations were coursing through his body and relaxing each and every part of his being. If this was what life would be like with Oliver, he wanted it to last forever.

"O-Oliver… p-please don't stop. Ngh… it feels so good. I feel like I'm gonna melt."

"Shh… Don't talk. Just enjoy it." Oliver soothed, stroking a soapy finger down the side of Harry's cheek.

The massaging went on for some time, with moans and groans flowing out of Harry's mouth every so often. Eventually, Oliver had finished washing him. Harry turned over on top of Oliver and gazed directly into his gleaming, hazel eyes. His chiselled features glowed in the dim light. It was so tempting to make love to Oliver there in the bathtub but Harry knew that jumping straight into such matters could complicate things, and this, whatever 'this' was, was working out much better than he expected it to; he wasn't going to ruin his chances now. Instead, he settled for a simple kiss. It was gentle and warm, with no tongues involved this time, adding to the intimacy and tenderness that the boys were only beginning to experience together.

"It's your turn to clean me, Harry." Oliver spoke after a while.

"I'm not too sure whether I'll be any good." Harry confessed, blushing slightly, "I've only cleaned myself before."

"Don't worry. While we're being honest, you're the first person I've been with."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, swapping positions with Oliver.

"I mean that you're my first. Harry… I've never been in a relationship where I actually connected with the one I was going out with."

Harry picked up the sponge and began to massage and clean Oliver's chest, trying his hardest to match the pressure and pace that Oliver had used.

"But what about Katie Bell? Weren't you going out with her for a few months while you were in your sixth year?"

"Actually, she's the only one other than you and the rest of the team that knows that I'm gay. She was the first person I told. We were never going out. I asked her to be my beard so that people would think I was straight if they saw me with a 'girlfriend'. She agreed and that's how 'we' came about."

"Why didn't you just tell people you were gay? It would have made life so much easier."

"It wasn't as simple as that. You, of all people, should know that. Plus, I had the pressure of people on the Quidditch team. I was worried that if they found out that I was gay, they'd want me kicked off. I mean, who'd want a homo on the team? Who'd want some other lad staring at their dick?"

"I see your point there. But look at how easy it was for me. There's only a four year difference between us. Not much could have changed since then."

"I suppose your- ow!" Oliver was cut off mid-sentence.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Ollie! Where did I hurt you?" Harry worried.

"It's fine, Harry. Don't worry. You just pressed on the bruise I got after you caught me earlier."

"I'd never hurt you, Oliver. I just want you to know that."

"Harry… I…"

Oliver couldn't find the right words to describe how he was feeling. Before Harry could say another word, he turned his head and pressed his lips to Harry's in another intense kiss. The air around the two boys sparked as they became lost in each other. It took several minutes before they broke the kiss.

"Oliver… I'm finished washing you." Harry muttered.

They were breathing deeply as they gazed into each other's eyes.

"Bedroom?" Oliver whispered.

Harry nodded. Together the two boys got out of the bathtub. The water was beginning to grow cold since the time was now 8:00 p.m.

Harry and Oliver had spent a whole hour cleaning each other and they now sported the telltale wrinkles on their hands and feet.

"Come here." Oliver said, pointing his wand at Harry, "_Exaresco!_"

The moisture from Harry's was pulled towards the tip of the wand in a thin stream of grey cloud. The wrinkles on the boy's body were soon gone. Oliver performed the same spell on himself. Now that they were both clean and dry, the two boys made their way out of the bathroom and into the bedroom.

Harry was astonished at the sheer size of the bedroom. It was much bigger than the bathroom and, like the rest of Oliver's living quarters, was circular in shape. Ten small windows were scattered around the walls. Harry gasped as he looked out of one and realised where they were.

"We're in the Astronomy tower?" he asked.

Oliver nodded. Out of the window Harry could see the Herbology greenhouses. They glistened as the sun began to set beyond the horizon, casting a magnificent pink across the sky and creating the perfect idyllic atmosphere. Across from the tower, to Harry's both joy and surprise, was Gryffindor tower, _his_ bedroom in particular. He could see through the windows and was able to make out the moving posters of Oliver on his wall. Hedwig was beginning to rattled in her cage, Harry noted, as she flapped and squawked against the bars. The sound barriers must have still been down because at that moment, Ron walked in through his door to see to Hedwig, and looked directly at him through the window.

"Shit!" Harry shouted and ducked beneath the window, attempting to avoid being seen by him.

Oliver laughed as Harry dived onto a soft piece of crimson fabric. He walked over to the window and could see Ron trying to settle Hedwig down, but to no avail; the bird flapped her wings in his face as he tried to soothe her. Eventually, he stormed out of the room in frustration, but not before casting a silencing spell on her.

"The coast's clear." Oliver alerted Harry.

Picking himself up off the floor, Harry looked around at the rest of the room. Just like the living area, the walls were pasted with matching gold wallpaper. A large double bed sat proudly against the wall, with many cushions of different sizes littering the head of the bed. The sheets were crimson like the carpet, and bore the traditional Gryffindor insignia, the lion.

"You wanna see what it looks like _beneath_ the covers?" Oliver gestured for them both to climb into the bed.

They were gentle with each other, kissing passionately yet tenderly and striving to satisfy the other's needs. It was the best night of their lives...

Harry took Oliver in his arms and embraced him tightly, beginning to rain kisses down upon his face and neck. Drawing his attention away from Oliver's face, Harry began to work his way down the keeper's taut chest and abs. He worked his tongue around Oliver's nipple and flicked at it gently every-so-often. Oliver moaned as the seeker began to caress his body in a way that he had never experienced before. Further and further Harry went; down past his pecs and onto his deep-cut, tanned abs. He began to sweep his tongue from side to side across Oliver's stomach.

"Mmm… Harry…" Oliver gasped breathlessly, "Give me more…"

Harry complied and began to make his way down to Oliver's now-throbbing cock. He inhaled deeply in the slight dusting of hair that surrounded the base of Oliver's shaft. It smelt heavenly and drove Harry insane with desire. Harry began to gently flick the base of Oliver's cock with his tongue, with Oliver beginning to pant from the little sensations that were starting to ripple through his body. Harry rose slightly, dragging his tongue up Oliver's shaft, with even more moans and groans escaping the boy's mouth.

"H-Harry…"

Harry pulled back the keeper's foreskin, exposing the sensitive head beneath.

"Close your eyes…"

Oliver shut his eyes in anticipation of what was to come. His head crashed down into the covers as Harry placed the head in his mouth and began to flick at his slit, suckling gently on the tip and squeezing the sensitive flesh with the insides of his cheeks.

"Ohhhhhh… _fuck, yeah!_"

Harry continued to suck on Oliver's cock, using his tongue to gently press and rub the sensitive underside of the swollen head. Oliver scrabbled around at the sheets as the sensations began to grow more intense. He put his hands on Harry's head and pushed slightly, telling the seeker to go further. Harry looked up at him with hunger.

Harry forced a yawn in order to open up his throat. As he yawned he pushed further down Oliver's long cock, taking the shaft deep into his throat until he was buried in the keeper's pubic hair. A loud moan escaped from Oliver's mouth as the feelings grew even more intense. Harry gagged as the yawn receded, leaving Oliver's meat deep inside his throat. Looking up into Oliver's glazed-over eyes, he began to hum.

"Ngh! H-Harry! Oh, Merlin!"

The vibrations from Harry's voice sent shockwaves of pleasure thundering through Oliver's body. The keeper began to shudder as he could finally feel the orgasm beginning to start.

"H-Harry… I'm gonna c-c-_cooooooome_!"

Harry closed his eyes tightly as Oliver came deep within his throat, his hot, sweet cum bursting out in several thick streams of pearl-white fluid. Harry could feel Oliver beginning to pull at his hair as the orgasm continued to surge through his body.

After the orgasm had passed Harry withdrew from Oliver's cock and gagged slightly as the now-limp flesh left his throat.

"Harry…" Oliver panted, "Are you sure you've never done this before?"

"Positive."

"Wow… I knew it would feel good getting sucked off but that was amazing! Let me return the favour."

Harry laid back on the cover and let Oliver get to work. He made his way down Harry's pecs and chest, kissing and licking every inch of skin he could find. Harry moaned like he always did when Oliver kissed him. Before Harry knew it, Oliver was bobbing up and down on his throbbing cock like a pro, garnering many loud and lustful moans from him. Harry screamed loudly as he came in Oliver's mouth. Oliver pulled away during Harry's orgasm, leaving his cock to squirt the rest of the cum onto Harry's toned abs and pecs.

Oliver began to make his way back up Harry's body, kissing and licking each crevice, cleaning the cum off of him with his tongue. Eventually, the boys were eye-to-eye. They smiled at each other as their breathing returned to normal. For the final time that night Harry and Oliver kissed with fiery passion, their tongues darting in and out of the other's mouth, becoming lost in each other. After they finished kissing, the two boys spooned beneath the bed sheets. It was incredibly easy for Harry to drift off into a peaceful sleep that night with Oliver's toned stomach snuggled up into his back. He felt safe.

"_I could get used to this…_" he thought to himself as he drifted lightly into a deep and comfortable slumber.


	6. Outed

**Chapter Six – Outed**

The sunlight was shining through the window into Oliver's bedroom when Harry woke up. He could feel Oliver's warm, bare skin against his back. His hair rustled slightly from the deep breaths coming from the still-sleeping Oliver. Harry began to panic as he looked at the clock on the brown bedside table; 10:54 a.m.!

"Fuck! I'm late for Transfiguration!" he shouted, startling Oliver from his sleep.

"Wha…" he mumbled sleepily, "What are you talking about?"

"Transfiguration! McGonagall's gonna kill me!"

"Harry, Harry! Calm down. That clock's been dead for a while now. I keep meaning to fix it but I haven't gotten round to it. Look at the clock outside."

Harry ran out of the bedroom, naked, and looked up at the clock on the wall above the door to the bathroom. He gave a huge sigh of relief as he saw that the time was, in fact, only 7:06 a.m. He had almost two hours to get ready for his day of lessons, the first of which being Transfiguration.

"Merlin, I hate Tuesdays…" he muttered to himself.

"It's only the second week of term, Harry. Surely, you're not already bored with your timetable."

"It wouldn't be so bad if there weren't things that I wanted to do."

"Who else do you plan on doing these 'things' with?" Oliver teased whilst adorning a fake, jealous expression, knowing full well that Harry would never dream of cheating on him.

Harry raised an eyebrow at Oliver with a look of disapproval. He might have been in a relationship with Oliver now but he just wasn't in the mood for games on this particular morning. Oliver must have sensed this because as soon as Harry glared at him he jumped out of bed and hugged him.

"I'm sorry." Oliver apologised, kissing Harry lightly on the cheek.

"Don't be. It's just me. I'm not in the best of moods this morning." Harry returned the kiss, "I'm gonna have to go. All my schoolbooks and everything are in my wardrobe. I'm gonna have to get over there as early and fast as I can. I don't want Ron knowing about 'us' just yet."

"What if someone sees you walking out of here? Surely, they'll get suspicious. I'm not ready for other people to know I'm gay yet."

"I could always use my invisibility cloak. Oh wait, I can't. It's on top of the wardrobe in my bedroom."

"But it's not actually locked _inside_ the wardrobe?"

"No."

"Try summoning it from the window and see if it comes to you. It should just come floating over to you since they don't have glass in the windows. Although, sometimes, I really wish that they'd put glass in them like the muggles do. I keep waking up during the night freezing my arse off."

Harry wandered over to the window, fully naked. Grabbing hold of his wand, he pointed it directly at the wardrobe through his window.

"_Accio Invisibility Cloak!_"

The smooth, silk cloak glided from the top of the wardrobe and out of the window, heading in Harry's direction. He sighed in relief as he took hold of the thin fabric. Then he found himself with a question for Oliver.

"Oliver? On Sunday you said that there was a gay player at Puddlemere United. I'm starting to think that you were talking about yourself when you said that. You said that everyone on the team was great towards him. But you haven't came out to them yet. Was there another player on the team who was out or were you lying to us?"

"There actually _was_ another gay player. Do you remember me telling you about Dean Finnigan?"

"Yeah."

"Well, it's him. But you can't tell anybody else until he decides to come out publicly. Just like I don't want anyone else to find out until I'm ready."

"You can trust Ron and Hermione. I'm sure the rest of the team won't tell anyone either." Harry assured Oliver.

The clock on the wall outside read 7:15 a.m.

"How about we go to the Great Hall and grab some breakfast? I'm starving." Oliver suggested, "Oh look! My bruise's gone!"

"But we won't be able to talk to each other. I'll be under my cloak and if someone sees you talking to yourself you're gonna get put into St. Mungo's."

"I suppose you're right. We have a staff meeting today at lunch. I plan on making an announcement there. I can see that if I don't get this sorted out right away things are gonna end up being complicated. Dumbledore already knows so it's safe to assume that I won't get the piss took out of me. The teachers won't say anything with Dumbledore around."

"That's right. I meant to ask you why you went to see Dumbledore yesterday."

"I went to ask him whether I was considered a teacher or not. He managed to work out that I was wondering if I'd be able to have a relationship with a pupil. He even guessed it was you that I wanted to go out with!"

"What did he say? I really hope that there isn't anything wrong with what we have. I don't think I've ever felt this close to someone before."

"He told me to sit down." Oliver began, "He said that we needed to have a chat."

Oliver began to remember back to the conversation he'd had with Dumbledore the day before…

_Dumbledore's Office_

"Teacher-student relationships are something that is highly forbidden, by both this school and by the Ministry itself." Dumbledore explained, "Are you aware of the reason for this?"

"I have an idea, but I'm not entirely sure."

"Teachers are given a position of authority and responsibility over their students. If a teacher was to initiate a relationship with one of their students it becomes inevitable that, along the line, they begin to manipulate one another. The teacher may blackmail the student into doing something that they do not want to participate in; for example, threatening the student with a low grade if they do not engage in sexual activity."

Oliver nodded as he understood Dumbledore's explanation.

"It can work the other way, however." Dumbledore continued, "The student can blackmail the teacher into giving a higher grade by threatening to make their relationship public. Then there is the effect that the relationship could have on the other students in the class. The teacher may begin to favour the student over the rest of the class, and give them privileges that are not afforded to the others."

"Does that mean that I'm a teacher?"

"No, Oliver. It does not. You are simply an employee of the school. Any relationships you strike up will not have an effect on a student's academic achievements. You are free to do what you want with the student that you are in a relationship with, providing that it does not conflict with their timetable or their own decision. Just remember this: the student _must_ be at least sixteen years of age. In recent years, the Ministry has begun to adopt several muggle laws; the age of consent for a sexual relationship, which I presume you are intending on having, is sixteen."

"So does this mean that I can ask a boy I like out?"

"Since Harry is sixteen, you may." Dumbledore replied.

Oliver was startled that the old wizard knew about his feelings for Harry.

"H-how did you know?" he asked.

"Legilimency."

Oliver was taken aback as he realised that his old headmaster had been rifling through his thoughts and memories like he was a filing cabinet.

"Albus, you know fine well that I can't perform Occlumency!" he scolded, "How long have you been doing this?!"

"I have been searching through your mind since you told me that you were gay."

"Why? Why did you go through my mind like that?"

"I had an idea that you might have had feelings for Harry. I just needed to be sure that what you felt for him was genuine. Like many of his care-givers over the past few years, I have been greatly concerned about Harry."

"I see. Well, is that all, Albus?"

"For now we are finished. But I must warn you, Oliver; should your relationship with Harry become public, you run the risk of students and other members of staff condemning it. Whilst I may be able to prevent such things from happening I will not always be there to stop every incident. Now I think you should be getting back to your Quidditch team. I have a feeling that they will be getting anxious waiting for you to return."

"Thank you, headmaster. Next time, though, ask me before you decide to use my brain like a filing cabinet."

"I will, don't worry, Oliver." Dumbledore laughed.

_Oliver's Bedroom_

Oliver finished telling Harry about the conversation he had with Dumbledore regarding teacher-student relations. Harry was elated at the fact that he could finally be with Oliver without shame, but he still needed to wait for Oliver to finally make the all-important announcement to Hogwarts and to the rest of the wizarding world about his sexuality. He was, like Oliver, worried about how the wizarding world would view their relationship. Harry, of course, expected even more unrelenting torment from the Slytherins. But with Oliver at his side he would able to take it. After Oliver's explanation, Harry looked up at the clock. It now read 7:30 a.m. Lessons would begin in an hour and a half.

They quickly got dressed. Harry adorned the invisibility cloak and set off with Oliver down the spiralling staircase. As they moved over the lawns to the entrance hall, Oliver found himself bombarded with questions from students of both genders.

"Is it true?"

"Will you go out with me?"

"Can I have your babies?"

"How big's Potter?"

Oliver had no idea where the questions were coming from and decided that it would be best not to ask. Instead, he put his head down and walked ahead. Harry was finding it difficult to keep up with Oliver as the invisibility cloak flapped around his feet. If he sped up the cloak would end up lifting upwards and revealing his feet. Eventually Harry and Oliver made it to the entrance hall doors and walked through. Luckily, the entrance hall was still empty; all the other students had either been outside or were still in their common rooms. Now that Harry was inside, he removed the invisibility cloak and stuffed it in his pocket. Oliver was shaking.

"Oliver? What's wrong?" he fretted.

"They… they know…" the keeper stammered, "How… HOW DO THEY KNOW?"

Tears began to stream down Oliver's face.

"Oliver it won't be that bad. I promise you, if anyone says something to you I'll jinx the smug expressions clean from their face." Harry hugged Oliver tightly.

Oliver began to sob into Harry's chest as the pressure of coming out finally made its impression on him.

"Let it out, baby, let it out." Harry soothed.

_Did he just say that? Did he just call Oliver his 'baby'?_

Oliver looked up at Harry with his beady, tear-filled, brown eyes. Harry's heart fluttered at the gorgeous keeper's amazing face.

"B-baby? Did you just call me 'baby'?"

"I… I think I did…" Harry muttered.

Oliver pressed his against Harry's in a gentle and tender kiss. The passion was there, like it always was when the two of them kissed. It had been something that Harry never wanted to end. Eventually, they broke apart.

"Come on, Oliver. Let's go get some breakfast."

"OK. I think I have announcement to make, as well..." Oliver replied glumly.

He couldn't believe what he had heard come from Harry's mouth. He'd called him his 'baby'!

Oliver slowly began to take control of his emotions once more.

"_This is it,_"he thought to himself, "_This is where I finally come out. It's been a long time but I'm glad that I'm finally getting it out of the way_."

The pair held hands for the first time.

"Ready?" Harry asked.

"Ready."

Together, they walked into the Great Hall, hand in hand. As the doors opened, they could see that there only a few students sat at the tables eating breakfast. It was of no surprise to either of the two boys since the weather outside was amazing; most of the students would have been sunbathing outside before a hard day of lessons ahead of them. Those that were sat at the tables looked up at them.

"Harry! Oliver!" Ron shouted from the Gryffindor table, waving a piece of toast around, "Get over here!"

Hermione was sat next to him, reading a copy of the day's Daily Prophet, with a small goblet of pumpkin juice and a bowl of cereal in front of her. She was staring at the paper, hard, as if she was expecting it to burst into flame.

"Hey, you two." Oliver greeted, sitting down at the table whilst still holding Harry's hand.

Hermione slammed the paper down onto the table, startling the three boys as she did so.

"Where on _earth_ were you last night, Harry? Ron and I were worried sick! The only thing that Ron told me was that you were having a chat with Oli- oh, hi, Oliver! Shouldn't you be down at the staff table having breakfast?"

Ron tilted his head towards Harry and Oliver's clasped hands. Hermione blushed as she realised that the two boys hadn't just been chatting after all.

"Oh, erm… sorry… about that… I had no idea."

"Hermione, I told you that Harry and Oliver were 'chatting'." Ron reminded her, this time putting the word 'chatting' in speech marks with his fingers.

"Oh…" Hermione blushed even further, "Anyway, I think there's something you two might want to see."

She handed Harry the Daily Prophet, giving Ron an unwanted glance at the front page.

"Merlin, Hermione! Did you have to point that at me?!" he said cringing at the sight of it.

"Sorry, Ron." Hermione apologised

Harry took the paper into his hands and stared in shock at the front page. There, right in the middle of the page in moving black-and-white ink, were smaller versions of him and Oliver in the changing rooms, kissing and, what looked a lot like, frotting. Thankfully, the image did not reveal anything below the waist so the boys' dignities were, at least, preserved. Nonetheless, it still showed them in a more-than-compromising position. Oliver took the paper from Harry's hands. The headline read:

_A Seeker and his Keeper: the Harry Potter and Oliver Wood story_

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" he shouted.

Then he read the by-line:

_Rita Skeeter_

"HOW DID SHE MANAGE TO SNAP A PHOTO OF US LIKE THAT?!" he raged.

"That's not all, either. Turn to page two."

Oliver quickly turned the page, and in his anger almost tore the paper. There were two more photos of him and Harry. In one of them Harry was catching Oliver as he fell and in the other the two were kissing on the grass after they fell to the ground.

"Where is she getting these pictures from?!" Harry's voice began to escalate.

The other heads in the Great Hall were turning towards Harry and Oliver, including the teachers that were sat at the bottom of the Hall. Dumbledore wore a concerned expression as he, too, held the Daily Prophet in front of him. It then became apparent that everyone in the Great Hall also held a copy of the paper in front of them.

"There's no point in denying it, is there?" Oliver asked sarcastically, knowing full well that there was no use in denying that he was gay; the evidence was plain to see, "Fine! I admit it! I'm gay!"

The Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students burst into applause. The Slytherin table remained deathly silent. Despite only a fraction of the regular students being at their tables, the sound of the applause was rapturous. Harry stood up from the table and leaned over into Oliver's ear.

"I'm so proud of you…" he whispered and kissed him on the cheek.

Oliver turned and gave Harry yet another intense kiss, with the other tables, barring Slytherin, cheering them on. Draco Malfoy stood up from his seat at the head of the Slytherin table.

"Oi! Faggots! People are trying to eat here! We don't want your sick shit in our faces!" he shouted.

"Mr. Malfoy, that is quite enough!" Professor McGonagall shouted from the teachers' table, "One hundred points from Slytherin and you can have a week's worth of detention for using that _outrageous_ word!"

Malfoy huffed and slumped back down into his chair.

"_I'll get you for this, Wood. Nobody makes a fool out of me and gets away with it._" Malfoy swore to himself.

The rest of the day was great for Harry and Oliver. After having finally came out at breakfast, Oliver had found himself inundated with congratulations from staff and student alike. They were a lot more accepting than he could ever have imagined. There were, however, several incidences where a small band of Slytherins had decided to try and make the newly-out Quidditch coach's life hell. Oliver had been tripped up several times and even almost ended up falling down a small flight of stairs when he was struck by the Tarantallegra curse. Thankfully, a passing Hufflepuff had cast Finite Incatatem before he actually fell down the stairs. Despite the obvious attempts by the Slytherins to force Oliver out of Hogwarts, he felt happy and carefree. A big weight had been lifted from his shoulders and he felt great. He could finally be who he had yearned to be all those years ago in his third year.

Harry, himself, was bombarded with questions by every person in the castle, including members of staff. The large majority of the questions were harmless; they were the types of questions that anybody would expect to hear if they had just started a relationship.

"How did you two meet up?"

"How far have you gone?"

"Do you love him?"

The answer to that last question had remained to himself. The truth was; he _did_ love Oliver. But if anyone was to find out first, it would be the man himself.

After a hard day of lessons for Harry, he met up with Oliver, Ron and Hermione in the Great Hall for dinner. He greeted Ron and Hermione with hugs and Oliver with a kiss. They sat down at the table as the platters of food began to appear with a loud crack. Ron wasted no time in waiting and was soon piling chicken legs onto his plate, much to Hermione's mild annoyance.

"Honestly, Ronald, you'd think you'd never been fed!" she scolded.

"Ah, leave off him, Hermione. He just likes his food." Oliver laughed as Ron began to shove the meat into his mouth.

"Well, could you at least act more civilised when you eat?" she pleaded with Ron.

"Alright, then." Ron put on a fake, posh accent to Harry and Oliver's amusement, "So sorry, your majesty."

Hermione was not impressed and scowled at the redhead.

"Very mature, Ronald."

Harry and Oliver laughed as Ron and Hermione's little argument carried on. It lasted for quite some time. Eventually, Ron and Hermione both got up and left the table, exiting the Great Hall and heading back up to Gryffindor tower, leaving Harry and Oliver sat on their own.

"Harry, I've been thinking…" Oliver spoke.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I want to take you out on a date sometime but I can't think of anywhere that we could go and what time we could go."

"How about we go into the Forbidden Forest tomorrow night for a walk?"

"I don't know, Harry. It's called the 'Forbidden Forest' for a reason, you know? What if we get attacked while we're in there?"

"We won't. We'll just go a small bit into the forest. We'll go in just enough so that we can't be seen but just enough so that we can be heard if something happens."

"Great! It's a date, then!" Oliver chirped.

They were in this for the long haul, Harry could tell. If Oliver wanted a date, he'd get one. And Harry would make sure that it would be a night to remember…


	7. Love in the Forbidden Forest

**Chapter Seven – Love in the Forbidden Forest**

Oliver had agreed to meet up with Harry in the Gryffindor common room at 10:00 p.m. The time was now 9:50 p.m. Harry was sat in one of the chairs in the common room waiting for his date to arrive and take him for a walk in the Forbidden Forest. It might not have been the most romantic place to go for a first date but it was the best that they could on short notice. He wore plain denim jeans and a deep navy sweater. Ron and Hermione were sat opposite him as he waited, visibly nervous about the night to come.

"Mate, don't worry about it. It'll be fine." Ron assured him, patting him on the shoulder, "Just be yourself around him; don't try to act all cool and smooth and stuff. It'll only put him off you."

"Ron's right, Harry. If Oliver's as a kind of a person as he's been showing us, he won't judge you if you act your natural self."

"Thanks. Right now it feels as though my heart's gonna jump out of my throat."

"If you want, Harry, I could run up to my room and fetch you a calming potion I made the other day." Hermione suggested.

"It doesn't come as a surprise that you make potions in your spare time, Hermione. I love how you're prepared for pretty much everything." Ron slung his arm around her.

"Well it never hurts to be prepared, Ronald. Besides, I'm rather fond of making potions. What do you say, Harry? Shall I go and grab the potion for you?"

"If it'll help, yes please. I've never felt like this before."

Hermione got up from the chair and walked up the stairs to her bedroom to grab the potion.

"So, how do you really feel about Oliver?" Ron asked.

"I don't really know yet," Harry lied, "I guess I'll just have to use this date to work that out."

"I suppose that makes sense. Like I said before, don't worry about it. Oliver's always been a great guy. If he really is as great as we think he is, he'll fall for you."

Harry was brimming with excitement at the idea of him finally going on a date with Oliver. Whilst the minor sexual encounters that they'd had were great, he longed for a sense of connection with the keeper and spending quality time with him on their own would be the perfect way to do it. He'd been so excited that he couldn't work out what clothes to wear for his date. In the end, he had recruited Hermione and Ginny to help him choose his clothes. He was wearing a dark blue jumper with grey trousers. His leg shook independently on his body. He looked up at the clock on the wall above the empty notice board.

9:57 p.m.

"Password?" the Fat Lady sung.

"Fainting Fancy." a familiar Scottish voice replied.

"Harry, Oliver's here!" Seamus called as he looked at the portrait of the Fat Lady, "You're one lucky bastard, Harry! I wish I could get my claws into him!"

Before he was aware of it, Harry found himself floating daintily over to him. He soon realised what we was doing and regained his composure, reverting back to acting like a five year-old on Christmas Day. Ron and Hermione snickered as they watched him drift over to Oliver. Harry shot them a dark glance. The snickering stopped abruptly. Then he smiled. They all began laughing together, apart from Oliver who was now stood in the middle of the room with a bemused expression covering his face.

"Am I missing something?" he asked.

"Oh, it's nothing. Don't worry." Hermione giggled.

"Are you ready to go?" Oliver smiled at Harry.

"Yep. I have my invisibility cloak with me so that I won't be seen."

"Do you really need it? Everyone knows we're together now anyway."

"That's true, I suppose." Harry responded, tossing the silk fabric to Ron.

"I don't know how long I'll be so don't bother waiting up for me, OK?" he told Ron and Hermione, "If it isn't too much trouble, Ron, would you drop the cloak on my bed for me?"

"What did your last slave die- oof!" Hermione nudged Ron in the side to get him to move, "Ow! That hurt!"

"Good! Harry _did_ ask nicely." Hermione scolded.

"Fine, I'll take this stupid bloody cloak up into your room." Ron grumbled as he got up from his seat and took the cloak upstairs.

"Honestly. Men." Hermione sighed, "I don't know how you cope with them, Oliver."

"Actually, Harry's my first relationship."

"What about when you were going out with Katie Bell?"

"She knew I was gay. She was helping me cover it up."

"Ah, I see. So Harry's your first _ever_ relationship?"

"Yeah. I guess that means that neither of us have experience with men yet, so we can't really comment on how our partners have been." Oliver chuckled, "Come on, Harry. Let's go on our date."

Oliver was wearing a red turtleneck sweater with black jogging trousers. He slung his right arm over Harry's shoulder and walked with him out of the common room and down the Grand Staircase to the entrance hall. They both walked out of the castle and onto the front lawn.

It was a beautiful night outside. There was not a cloud in the sky and the stars shone brightly against the dark, blue night sky. A gentle breeze whispered through the trees in the distance. A full moon watched over the two boys as they made their way to the Forbidden Forest.

"It's a beautiful night, Harry…" Oliver commented.

"It is. I could say the same for you, Oliver."

Oliver blushed at Harry's compliment.

"Quick with the smooth moves tonight, aren't we?" Oliver chuckled.

Harry turned to look at Oliver. Like all the times he had gazed at Oliver before, he was completely mesmerised by his outstanding chiselled features. He gazed deep into his gleaming, hazel eyes. Oliver had grown a slight stubble over the last couple of days, but this was the first time that Harry had noticed. He shook his head to get out of the trance. Unable to think of a witty comeback, Harry smirked. He took Oliver's hand into his own and walked through the clearing and into the forest. It was dark, but the two boys could still see clearly. Beams of moonlight glinted through the leaves and branches in the trees and illuminated the dirt path ahead of them. There was a small gap in the trees to the right that led to a small enclosure.

"Let's head that way." Harry suggested, "It doesn't like we'll be seen in there. It looks peaceful, too."

"I didn't take you to be one who liked peace and nature, Harry."

"We all learn new things every day."

The Forest was eerily quiet. The only sounds were the distant howling of wolves and the odd 'cheep' made by birds in the nearby trees. Harry walked with Oliver into the enclosure and sat down in front of one of the nearby trees.

"So, Oliver. How've things been for you since you left Hogwarts?" Harry started their conversation.

"Aside from the arguments at Puddlemere United; great. But I felt quite empty once I finished my final year here."

"I have to say, Oliver, I missed you when you were gone. The practice sessions just weren't the same. Angelina was a great captain, and everything, but she just didn't compare to you."

"Oh, Harry, stop it. I'm already with you. Enough with the flattery already."

"No, I mean it, Oliver. She really didn't compare to you. You were a lot more talented than her and you always found the best ways to motivate us, and…"

"And what?"

"And you were really, _really_ sexy…" Harry trailed, "Even now I can't keep my eyes off you."

"Believe it or not, Harry, but I thought you were quite sexy, too." Oliver winked, placing one hand on Harry's leg and stroking the soft, blue fabric.

"Now who's pulling the smooth moves?" Harry joked, placing his own hand onto Oliver's leg.

"Harry, I admire you so much."

"Me? Why? I haven't done anything special."

"It's not the things you've done, although they play a small part in it. It's just who you are. You're so kind and caring. You rarely ever want to hurt-"

Harry silenced him by placing a finger over his lips.

"Oliver… We've only been going out for such a short time – tonight's our third night together – but I already feel so close to you. I-I think I'm falling for you."

Oliver remained silent for several agonisingly tense minutes.

"_This is it! Harry loves me!_" his mind screamed.

"Oliver?" Harry was growing worried at Oliver's silence, "Oliver, can you hear me?"

"Don't talk. Just kiss me."

Harry leaned towards Oliver and delivered a soft and gentle kiss. Their hearts beating in unison, they were soon lost in each other. Passion flared from the two boys as they parted their mouths and let each other's tongue explore the territory that they had each claimed as their own. Oliver took hold of Harry by his sides and pulled him to the floor. Small clouds of dust burst upwards as they landed on the dry soil. Harry's hands were roaming around Oliver's body, his fingers digging gently into every crevice he could find. He was careful to avoid the bruise on Oliver's side from where he had caught him during the first coaching session; the last thing he wanted to do was ruin this perfect moment by hurting him. By now, Harry had positioned himself in between Oliver's legs and was now grinding their crotches together as the intensity of the kissing grew.

"Mmm…" Oliver moaned into Harry's mouth, "Keep doing th-ngh. It feels so… mph… good…"

"Oliver… mmm… I want… I want more…"

Oliver pulled his lips away from Harry's.

"What do you mean, more?" he wondered.

"I want more of you. More than I've had before. Oliver. I want to give myself to you."

Oliver pulled Harry into a bruising kiss, sliding his hands into Harry's trousers and cupping his tight arse. He was surprised to feel that Harry wasn't wearing any underwear, but it turned him on so much more. His cock was now throbbing painfully against his trousers; he, too, had gone commando but Harry would find that part out later.

Between mouthfuls of Harry, Oliver managed to utter a few words.

"I love a man who likes to live life to the full. Especially ones who don't like to wear underwear."

Harry continued to rain kisses down upon Oliver's face as he began to grind their crotches together a bit harder and with a faster pace. He buried his face into Oliver's neck and gasped as he could feel an orgasm beginning to make its presence known. Before he could blow, however, Oliver pulled away from underneath him. Harry was immensely disappointed at being denied an orgasm.

"Awww! Why'd you have to pull away? I was almost there."

"I thought you wanted more of me?" Oliver teased, "You want more, you're gonna get more. But you'll have to catch me first."

Harry laughed as Oliver ran from the enclosure and out of the clearing. He was soon giving chase.

"Doesn't this bore you at all, Oliver? We did this on Monday in the changing rooms!"

"Oh, it never gets old, Harry! Besides, I've always liked the feeling of having people chasing after me! And who better to chase me than my favourite seeker?"

"Well, this is one seeker that's not gonna chase. This seeker's gonna keep for once."

Oliver was out of the clearing and was heading to run back to the castle. As Harry chased him back to the castle, he realised that there were still students awake. If him and Oliver weren't quiet, they would end up being noticed. Not only would Harry get weeks of detention for being outside of the castle, in the Forbidden Forest no less, but Oliver could lose his job.

"Oliver!" Harry whispered, trying to get Oliver's attention without shouting, "We'll be screwed if someone sees or hears us out here!"

"Shit! You're right!" Oliver realised, "We better get back into the castle as fast as we can. And _quietly_!"

The pair dashed up to the main doors to the entrance hall. The clock above the doors read 11:21 p.m.

"You know, Oliver," Harry begun as he pushed them open, "we could always carry on our little game of tonsil tennis upstairs in-"

"Potter!"

An all-too-familiar voice echoed through the empty hall...


	8. Malfoy's Big Mistake

**Chapter Eight – Malfoy's Big Mistake**

A tall, slim boy sauntered down the stairs and into the entrance hall, his dull, grey eyes glinting evilly in the dim light. His whitish-blond hair was about the brightest thing in the room. Even before Harry laid eyes on him, he instantly recognised his voice; Draco Malfoy.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" he spat, "Can't you see I'm busy right now?"

"You know, Professor McGonagall might be awfully mad if she were to find out that her favourite student was leaving the castle at night; and going to the Forbidden Forest, no less."

"I think you'll find that I already have permission to take Harry out. Professor Dumbledore, himself gave me that privilege." Oliver stated matter-of-factly.

"I should have guessed that the old faggot would have let his _precious Harry Potter_ do whatever he wants." Malfoy mocked.

"Watch what you're saying, Malfoy, or I might just hex you gay. Then you wouldn't be so ignorant." Harry was beginning to grow angry.

"I'd like to see you try, Potter. You wouldn't be able to cast such advanced spells if it weren't for your filthy mudblood friend Granger."

Harry was screwing his fists up tightly. He would have grabbed his wand and cursed Malfoy there and then if he hadn't left it lying on his bed. A vein throbbed in his temple as his anger increased.

"What's wrong, Potter? Want to curse me? Want to hurt me?" Malfoy noticed that Harry wasn't holding his wand, "Ha! You don't have your wand, do you? You can't protect yourself!"

"What are you planning, Malfoy." Oliver interrupted, "You hurt him and I'll curse you myself."

"Oh that's right! You're Potter's boyfriend now aren't you? Well tough shit, Wood, you can't do anything. Not unless you're willing to risk your job for him."

"You'd be surprised, Malfoy," he retorted, "I'd do just about anything to keep Harry safe."

"Save me the lovey-dovey nonsense. You're making me feel nauseous. Merlin, I hate faggots. You're all so… unnatural!"

"I've had it with you, Malfoy! Oliver, give me your wand!" Harry demanded.

Oliver complied and thrust his wand into Harry's hand.

"_Stupefy!_" Harry cried, pointing it directly at Malfoy.

A red bolt of light erupted from the tip of Oliver's wand and whizzed across the entrance hall towards Malfoy. Malfoy ducked out of the path of the oncoming spell and dived behind one of the stone pillars to either side of the staircase. Dust burst from the wall behind where the spell had made contact.

"You're going to have try harder than that, Potter! _Expelliarmus!_"

Oliver's wand was sent soaring up into the air. Harry was blasted backwards from the force of the spell and hit the stone wall next to the door to the Great Hall with a loud thud, hitting his head in the process. Stars burst out in front of his eyes as he made impact with the hard surface. He slumped to the floor, dazed. Oliver's wand clattered to the floor beside him.

"Harry!" Oliver shouted and ran to the stunned teen, "You're gonna pay for this, Malfoy!"

Oliver grabbed his wand from the floor and pointed it towards the pillar where Malfoy was hiding.

"You can't hide behind there forever, Malfoy! _Reducto!_"

A large explosion filled the entrance hall, dust billowing out from the pillar where Malfoy was hidden. After the dust settled, and the sound of the explosion receded, the pillar was revealed to have sustained a significant amount of damage, with a huge hole on one side revealing Malfoy's position.

"I told you I'd keep Harry safe, Malfoy!" Oliver boomed as he walked up to the pillar, "Now get your scrawny little arse off the floor before I do some serious damage!"

Malfoy, stricken with panic, scrambled to his feet. His feet became tangled in his school robes and he fell back down to the floor. Oliver laughed as Malfoy clamoured around.

"You… you attacked me! Staff aren't permitted to attack students! My father will hear about this!"

"Oh shut up about your fucking father! Besides, staff are permitted to use the appropriate amount of force necessary should a student become unruly. That applies to _all_ members of staff. Have you been harmed? No." Oliver retorted, "We weren't doing anything to provoke such an attack from the likes of you. Now I suggest that you leave us in peace. Or do you want remember what it's like to be a ferret?"

"O…Ollie? Baby, where are you?" Harry mumbled, recovering from his stun.

Oliver whirled round at the sound of Harry's voice. He dashed back over to him and held his head in his hand, looking into each of his eyes to see if there was any lasting damage. He seemed fine.

"Harry? How are you-"

Malfoy took advantage of Oliver's momentary distraction.

"_Crucio!_"

A huge wave of excruciating pain washed over Oliver. He screamed loudly. It felt as though someone was using a hacksaw to slowly cut through his skull and into his brain. A hot, burning sensation thundered through his body; he felt like he was being disembowelled. The pain began to intensify. Eventually, Oliver could feel himself beginning to black out.

"Oliver!" Harry came back to his senses and was scrambling to help Oliver, who was now laying on the floor and clutching his head, "Baby! Come on, baby, fight it!"

It was no use; Oliver screamed louder as the pain continued to intensify. Harry had an idea.

"_Crucia!_"

Still nothing. His heart sank as he realised that there was nothing he could do to stop Oliver's pain. Tears began to flow down his cheeks as he filled with sorrow.

"_You tried to protect me and now you're in so much pain. I wish I could help you in any way possible._" Harry's mind was racing.

A peculiar, tingling feeling started to ripple through Harry's body. It felt warm and filled him with power. It grew stronger, and more violent. It made itself visible in the form of red wisps flowing gently around his arms and hands. The flowing gradually grew stronger and the colour became more vivid. Eventually, the power began to consume Harry. Anger flared up inside of him, much different to the anger that he had felt before; this was pure hatred.

"Malfoy!" he roared, his voice growing deeper and more menacing.

Malfoy's face became white with horror as Harry began to advance towards him, a deep red aura swirling violently around him. Instinctively, Malfoy began to hurl hexes and curses at Harry in all directions.

"_Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Tarantallegra! Sextumsempra! AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

Nothing was working. Each curse that Malfoy launched at Harry rebounded, leaving no signs of damage on his body at all. The same could not be said for the entrance hall, however. As each curse rebounded off of Harry they impacted with the walls and ceiling. Plaster and stone crumbled onto the floor, with the walls suffering significant structural damage.

"Struggle all you want, Malfoy. Nothing will work. I'm gonna do something that I should have done a long time ago." Harry growled.

The voice was not his own, but was something far more sinister, as if inhuman.

Harry held out his hand and faced his palm towards Malfoy. With a small grunt, a clear ring of energy burst from the open palm and zoomed towards to Malfoy, a long line of golden sparks trailing and crackling behind. It made impact with the Slytherin and propelled him across the room. He landed on the floor awkwardly, with his knee bending backwards. He screamed in pain as he clutched his injured leg.

At that moment, Professors Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall burst through the doors into the entrance hall. Harry, or whatever 'it' was, glared at them. The three professors were taken aback at the destruction in the room. Oliver was now lying on the floor breathing heavily, the effects of the Cruciatus curse having worn off at last.

Eventually, the power became too much for Harry to handle. The crimson aura that had engulfed Harry exploded outwards in a thick, red smoke. The boy fell to the floor, exhausted.

"Severus, I need you to go to the hospital wing and get Poppy to prepare three beds." Dumbledore commanded.

"Yes, headmaster." Snape replied and ran out of the hall up to the hospital wing.

"A-Albus… was that…" McGonagall gasped.

"Yes, Minerva. And once Harry has recovered from this he is going to have a lot to take in."

"But, Albus, he's just a boy. Is he ready to take such a heavy amount of pressure? He already has his NEWTs to worry about. I'm concerned that this may be too much for him."

"I understand your concerns, Minerva, I truly do. But this could be a very useful tool for Harry once he learns how to use it."

"But is it necessary for him to learn how to use it? Does he really pose a threat to us?"

"It is much like the circumstances that untrained witches and wizards below the age of eleven experience; at times when their emotions begin to take over them, they may cause certain unprecedented situations. However, due to their lack of training and experience, the power is only very weak and will continue to be so until they have been trained."

"So you're saying that Potter is of no danger to us?"

"Aside from a few minor complications, that is exactly what I'm saying."

"Albus, look around! The walls and ceiling have been chipped to hell! Look at the pillar!" McGonagall was astounded at Dumbledore's calm demeanour.

"Minerva, you and I both know fine well that it's nothing that Reparo cannot fix."

Dumbledore waved his hand in the air. As he did so, the dust around the hall lifted up from the floor, along with fragments of plaster and stone. In no time they were making their way back to their original places. As they settled, a subtle, golden line flowed through the still-visible cracks and sealed the openings. The hall was as good as new.

"But we still don't know whether the damage was caused by Potter or not." McGonagall commented.

"There are signs of a struggle here. I'll check their wands in order to determine the last spells that they used. That should give us some general idea."

Dumbledore walked over to Oliver's shuddering form and picked up the wand that was lying next to him. After a while, Dumbledore put the wand back on the floor.

"The last spell cast by this wand was Reducto. It's likely that Oliver here used it to blast a hole in the pillar."

"Why would he do such a thing? Wood was a model student when he was here. He might not have had the best grades but he was rarely in trouble. I couldn't see him harming another student. Besides, he knows that if he attacks a student now he would lose his job."

"That may be the case, Minerva, but you must remember that a member of staff has the right to use necessary force if a student poses a threat to them. It is likely that Oliver was either attacked, or was protecting Harry. They _are_ in a relationship, after all. But the only way to know for sure is to delve into Oliver's mind and retrieve his memory of the event."

"A-Albus…" Oliver wheezed, "Please… Malfoy started this whole thing… Look into my mind…"

Snape and Madame Pomfrey were running back to the entrance hall now. The old healer had brought three stretchers with her to take the three boys up to the hospital wing.

"Take Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy up to the hospital wing. Albus and I will bring Mr. Wood up when we are finished here." McGonagall said.

Snape ran over to Malfoy, who was still holding his leg and wailing in pain, whilst Madame Pomfrey picked Harry up from the floor and laid him on a stretcher.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said in his usual cold manner, "I suggest that you stop that incessant noise. Your injury looks no worse than a sprain."

Malfoy quickly stopped his whimpering and whining. He took hold of one of Snape's shoulders and lifted himself up, keeping his injured leg off the floor and hobbling out of the entrance hall behind Harry and Madame Pomfrey.

Dumbledore placed his index fingers on Oliver's temples and closed his eyes. He soon found himself traversing through a liquid-like substance within Oliver's mind. Several of Oliver's memories floated by daintily, some more innocent than others. It took a while for Dumbledore to find the memory he was after. He watched as Malfoy and Harry argued, followed by the short-lived duel, then Malfoy's use of the Cruciatus curse on Oliver, and finally Harry's meltdown. After viewing the memory, he brought himself back out of Oliver's mind.

"What did you see, Albus?" McGonagall asked.

"Everything. Minerva, I want you to arrange for an auror to come to the school. I shall explain everything when Harry and Oliver have recovered."

"I'm fine, headmaster." Oliver assured him, "I'm just worried about Harry, now. What happened back there? All I can remember is Harry being thrown across the room and then me running up to him. I remember being in really bad pain but that's the last I can remember apart from seeing Harry's body starting to glow red."

"I shall explain after Harry has recovered. For now, get some rest. There is no telling how long it will take for him to recover."


	9. First Experiences

**Chapter Nine – First Experiences**

Harry woke with a start. It was still dark in the hospital wing, which meant that it was still night time. Three days had passed since the incident in the entrance hall but this was the first time that Harry had woken up. Oliver was sat on a small, uncomfortable chair next to the bed with his head on the mattress. He was sleeping peacefully. There were dark bags beneath his eyes, as though he had been awake for the whole time that Harry had been unconscious but had finally succumbed to the exhaustion.

Harry needed the toilet. He gently edged himself off the hospital bed and walked over to the toilets on the other side of the room. He took a while since he had been unconscious for three days; he had three days' worth of urine to remove.

Oliver opened his eyes with a loud yawn and stretched, his dark blue tank top rising above his abs as his arms pulled the fabric upwards. A sense of panic started to enshroud him as he realised that Harry wasn't in his bed.

"Poppy! Poppy! Harry's gone!" he shouted to the old healer.

Poppy Pomfrey came running out of her office adjacent to the ward, carrying a small lantern with her. Her nightgown billowed behind her. At that moment, they heard the toilet flushing. Harry was blissfully unaware of the commotion outside and so he tiptoed out of the door, hoping that he wouldn't wake his boyfriend up. He got the shock of his life when he turned round and saw Madame Pomfrey and Oliver staring directly at him.

"HARRY!" Oliver cried and ran over to him.

He grabbed Harry tightly by the waist and hoisted him into the air, with Harry giggling as he did so. They embraced in a gentle kiss.

"Mr. Wood, please be careful with him." Poppy warned, "I still need to run a few tests to see if he's as healthy as he looks."

"I'm fine, Madame Pomfrey. Really." Harry assured her, "I want some time alone with Oliver."

Madame Pomfrey chuckled.

"You teenagers and your love lives. Very well. You may leave the hospital wing first thing in the morning. However, I still need to run a few tests just to be sure. You will need to return to the hospital wing every now and then so that I can perform them. Is that clear?"

Harry looked at Oliver pleadingly. He hoped that Oliver would be able to convince Madame Pomfrey to let him out there and then.

"Poppy, I'll be with Harry. Why don't you just let him out now? I mean, he looks fine. And you said it yourself that you'd let him out first thing tomorrow. Why not just let him out now and be done with it? It's 03:12 a.m. anyway."

"I'm not in a position to disobey a member of staff since I am not under the direct employment of the school. Very well, then. You may pack your things and leave, Mr. Potter. But I still want you to come back to me for the tests."

"I will. Thank you so much, Madame Pomfrey." Harry thanked.

"Not too rough, Mr. Wood." Poppy winked.

Harry and Oliver looked at each other in astonishment; they didn't think of Madame Pomfrey to be the type of woman with a racy side. They started giggling as she walked back into her office to let Harry collect his things. Harry ran over to his bed and pulled his trunk out from underneath the bed; Oliver must have brought it here for me, he thought. He shoved everything into the trunk and locked it.

"You're really energetic for someone who's been in a coma for three days!" Oliver joked.

"You would be if you'd just been told that you can spend time with your gorgeous boyfriend!" Harry laughed.

"Keep talking like that and I might not be able to follow up with my promise to Madame Pomfrey." Oliver grinned cheekily.

"I count on it." Harry replied as he and Oliver walked out of the hospital wing.

"I think we should head up to your room, Harry. It'll be peaceful up there; Ron and Hermione will probably still be asleep."

"I have a better idea." Harry winked, "Follow me."

Harry walked onwards with Oliver following behind, a bemused expression clouding his face.

"_Where is he taking me?_" he thought excitedly.

He followed on in silence as Harry led him up the Grand Staircase and onto the seventh floor. They navigated through the corridors until they eventually stopped in front of a blank wall. Oliver was more than disappointed.

"Don't worry, Ollie. I haven't tricked you. See, there's a secret room here."

"Eh? Where?"

"Right in front of you. Close your eyes."

Oliver complied.

Harry concentrated on what it was that he most desired; a place where he could enjoy time with Oliver without a single disruption. He opened his eyes.

Sure enough, right in front of them stood a large, brown door; the Room of Requirement.

"Open your eyes." Harry said to Oliver.

Oliver gasped as he opened his eyes. He gazed up at the sizeable door.

"I've heard about this room before but I didn't think it _really_ existed! Is this the Room of Requirement?!"

"Yeah. You wanna see what I've got in store for us tonight? Go on; peep your head inside."

Oliver pushed open the door to the Room of Requirement and marvelled at the things he saw. In one corner of the room sat a four-poster bed with crimson sheets. It was big enough to fit three people in. Next to the bed sat a cabinet with a small, red lamp on top. It cast a subtle, red light up onto the ceiling and across the room and created the perfect mood for the night ahead. On the other side of the room was a circular bathtub with several black holes around the side and on the base.

"What _is_ that thing?" Oliver asked, confused at the thing in the corner, "It doesn't look very good. Have you _seen_ the holes?"

"It's called a Jacuzzi. You'll get to see what it does later." Harry winked.

"I'd prefer to see it sooner rather than later." Oliver stated, walking seductively over to where Harry was standing.

Oliver took Harry's chin in his hand and gazed into his glistening, green eyes.

"Hold on."

He used his free hand to take Harry's glasses off and laid them on the cabinet at the side of the bed. He turned his attention back to Harry.

"Much better."

Oliver brought his lips down over Harry's in a tender kiss. It felt so much different to the other times that they had kissed; they felt more connected than they had before. Harry used his tongue to probe at Oliver's lips and poked in between them, brushing over the edges of his teeth. Oliver opened his mouth to let Harry inside, deepening the kiss. He flicked his tongue over Harry's in a swift motion. Soon their tongues were battling one another, fighting to take control of the other's mouth. Eventually, Harry receded and allowed Oliver to slide his tongue into his mouth. He moaned as Oliver reached places that they had never been able to explore when they kissed before now.

Harry broke the kiss as he pulled his blue t-shirt up from his body. Oliver's mouth watered as he gazed upon Harry's toned chest and abs. The small trail of hair going down from Harry's naval and past his waistline drove Oliver crazy. He wanted Harry so much more than he had done in the past six days.

Harry watched in awe as Oliver began a seductive dance whilst lifting his black turtleneck sweater. He loved it when Oliver wore nothing beneath the sweater; it let them get naked together so much faster. The sweater lightly fell to the floor. Harry's heart began to flutter as he absorbed Oliver's features. The gentle, red glow coming from the lamp highlighted his abs and pecs flawlessly, his face was surrounded by a warm, crimson haze. Harry could never get enough of staring into his boyfriend's crystalline, hazel eyes.

The couple embraced once more, this time adding more passion and enthusiasm to the kiss. The moaned uncontrollably as they entered their own world. It wasn't long before they had removed their trousers. Oliver was now only wearing a pair of cute, blue briefs, whilst Harry wore nothing; Oliver had anticipated making love to Harry after he woke and had prepared him for when he woke up. It had been a bold move but it had paid off well. Now he was going to tease Harry just like he had tried in the changing rooms on the Monday evening. Harry had his wand back then but luckily, it was still lying on his bed in his room.

"You like what you see?" Oliver teased, "I'm gonna take it nice… and… slow."

"Oh, you're such a tease! I just wish that there was a way for me strip you here and now. Where's your wand when you need it?" Harry moaned, "I could really use _Tollere Vestimentum_ right now!"

Oliver was thrown to the floor at the mere mention of the spell, the briefs sliding quickly down his incredibly toned legs and over his feet.

"Harry? How did you do that?" Oliver was in shock, "Are you able to do freehand magic?"

"I don't think so. I'm just as confused as you are."

Harry felt a surge of disappointment close over him; the romantic night that he had planned seemed to have been washed away in a moment of uncontrollable magic.

"I wonder if that's what happened in the entrance hall." Oliver explained, "I heard Dumbledore and McGonagall talking about it while I was recovering from the Cruciatus curse. They mentioned something about a useful tool but they didn't explicitly say what it was. And they said that it was most active when your emotions are on high alert, like it is for wizards and witches under the age of eleven. Until you've trained up, that is. If this is what they were talking about, I think I might have the perfect way to train you up."

"So you mean to tell me that I have an ability that can be trained just as easily as an underage witch or wizard?"

"I think so. I felt the power coming from that spell. If you learned how to use it there's no telling as to what you'll be able to do with it! But it doesn't seem all that strong right now. I'm gonna give you a few small things to do and then we can see how you progress from there."

"So you're not just my boyfriend and my Quidditch coach, but you're also my new Charms teacher?"

"Pretty much!" Oliver laughed, "Now come here! I'm not finished with you yet!"

He pulled himself up from the floor and grabbed Harry by the waist.

"Tonight, I'm going to show you the time of your life. Tonight, we're going to go further than we've gone before. Tonight, we're going all the way."

Harry swallowed hard.

"You mean… _all_ the way?" he asked.

He could feel the familiar tingling beginning to surface in him again. This time, however, it was not hatred; it was the complete opposite. Pure love.

"Yeah. _All_ the way. But only if you want to, of-"

Harry crashed his lips onto Oliver's in a passionate kiss. Now he knew for sure that tonight would be the night that he showed Oliver just how much he truly did love him.

Oliver lifted Harry up off the floor whilst Harry wrapped his legs around his waist. Their cocks were beginning to grow hard, fast. Oliver carried Harry over to the bed and laid him down. Slowly and gently, Oliver began to suck at the skin on Harry's neck, nibbling in different places here and there.

"Baby… I love it when you do that…" Harry moaned, "Mmm, go further down."

Oliver complied and began to kiss and suckle around Harry's nipples. The moans grew louder as Harry started to grip the sheets slightly. Little sparks of pleasure rippled through his body as Oliver made his way down past Harry's abs and down onto the base of his cock.

The tingling in Harry's body began to grow stronger. He closed his eyes to enjoy the sensations as Oliver kissed and caressed his body. In his mind, he could see a small globe of white light. It reached out to him, small beams of light shining towards him amidst a thick, black fog.

Harry was brought back to reality as Oliver made his way up to the tip of his cock and opened his mouth. He took the head in between his lips and flicked gently at his slit with his tongue. Harry closed his eyes again as the pleasure began to thunder through his system. The tingling sensation began to grow stronger still as Oliver applied pressure to the sides of Harry's cock by sucking his cheeks in and starting to bob up and down. Harry moaned loudly.

"Oliver, please, stop. I'm gonna come if you don't."

Oliver quickly released Harry's cock from his mouth. He laid on top of Harry, their rock hard cocks rubbing against each other. They moaned as Oliver grinded them together for a short while. Harry gazed into Oliver's eyes with a deep sense of hunger.

"Oliver… it's time… take me to the stars…"

"Are you absolutely sure that this is what you want, baby? I don't want to hurt you. Remember, it's my first time, too, so I don't know exactly what I'm doing."

"I'm sure. I don't care if it hurts, as long as I can finally have you inside me."

The boys kissed again, taking their time to make sure that they were both ready. Oliver slowly slid his fingers down past Harry's cock and stroked his tight entrance. Gently and carefully, Oliver pressed the tip of his index finger into Harry.

"How's that so far?" he asked Harry.

"It feels a little bit tight, but that's to be expected for a first-timer, isn't it?"

"I think so. But I'm gonna use a little bit of lube so that it isn't as painful."

Oliver took hold of his wand from the bedside table and pointed it at Harry's hole.

"_Lubrico!_" he whispered.

Harry could feel the lubricant beginning to spread itself over his entrance, sending shivers down his spine as the coldness of it set in. Oliver pushed his finger in a little bit further, managing to go down to the knuckle. Harry whimpered as he did so.

"I think you need to relax a little bit, Harry."

He started to kiss Harry's muscular thighs and slowly rubbed his cock. It wasn't long before he could feel Harry's muscles begin to relax around his finger. He brought another finger up to Harry's puckered hole and slid it in, joining it up with his index finger. Harry moaned as the finger slid inside him. Being sure not to hurt him, Oliver made a careful scissor motion with his fingers inside Harry and loosened the muscles enough to fit his pulsating cock.

As Harry became loose, he closed his eyes. There it was again; the small globe of light. But now it was brighter, and seemed to fill the space more than it had done just moments before. The beams of light were longer and shooed away most of the remaining black fog. The tingling sensation began to grow more intense as he relaxed.

"Oliver… I'm ready…" Harry gasped, "Take me…"

"Alright. I'll take it really slow." Oliver comforted him as he applied lube to his raging cock, "Brace yourself."

He placed the head of his cock at Harry's waiting entrance. Separating Harry's legs slightly, Oliver pushed slowly. He moaned as he felt the head slide in. His heart sank as he heard Harry's whimpers. He leaned over the younger boy's body and met eye-to-eye with him. Harry was squeezing his eyes tightly as he adjusted to Oliver's presence inside him.

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'd never mean to hurt you. If you want I'll pull out now before it gets any-"

"You'll do no such thing. I want you to make love to me, Oliver. It burns for now but I'm sure it'll wear off. I'm gonna keep kissing you until it does."

Harry pushed his lips upwards to meet Oliver's. They became lost in yet another enchanting kiss. The burning sensation inside Harry subsided.

"Oliver, push the rest inside me."

Oliver complied and thrust the rest of his cock deep inside Harry's tight arse. Harry shouted as the head of Oliver's cock brushed against his prostate.

"Ngh… Merlin… move…" Harry begged.

Oliver placed his lips onto Harry's in a gentle kiss, finally able to show him just how much he really did love him. He thrust in between his legs in a slow rhythm. Gazing lustfully down into Harry's emerald eyes, he steadily increased his pace. Harry moaned loudly as he was pounded into the mattress, huge waves of pleasure thundering through his system. He closed his eyes to focus on the terrific sensations coursing around his body.

The globe of light was still there, becoming brighter with each thrust of Oliver's cock and each resulting rush of pleasure. The black fog was no longer there.

Harry could feel the tingling beginning to increase exponentially in his body, in accordance with the increase in size of the bright globe of light itself. He realised that they were connected.

Oliver moaned loudly as the sides of Harry's tight hole pressed against his shaft as he thrust in and out of the younger boy. He could feel a knot in his scrotum as his body threatened to let go. Harry's arms roamed freely around his body and pressed into every crevice he could find. He worked his way down to Oliver's arse and pressed his fingers into the crack. He surprised himself when he slid the tip of one of his fingers inside Oliver, gaining a quiet yelp from the keeper.

"Harry… oh, Merlin… I'm gonna come!"

"Baby, me too! We'll come together!"

Oliver pressed his face into Harry's neck as the orgasm began to thunder through his body, gasping as his body finally surrendered. Harry screamed as his orgasm burst its banks, cum ejecting out of his swollen cock and splattering all the way up his and Oliver's bodies. He felt a hot gush inside of him as Oliver emptied his load. Harry yelped as Oliver bit down gently on his neck during the intensity of the orgasm. As Harry's orgasm continued to rage through his body, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly to focus on the intense sensations. In his mind he could no longer see the globe, instead replaced by a brilliant white light. Oliver pushed hard inside Harry one final time. Then it happened.

Harry screamed, followed by two bright beams of white light bursting out of his eyes and illuminating the entire room around them. The table next to the bed was sent spiralling into the empty Jacuzzi, followed by the lamp. The lights in the room flickered on and off rapidly. The door to the Room of Requirement rattled on its hinges. Their clothes danced around in the air. Oliver stared at Harry in awe as the boy continued to scream in unsurpassable pleasure; he had been right in predicting that Harry's new 'ability' would activate itself if the boy was experiencing high levels of emotion, and that sex was the perfect way to do it. He was ecstatic that he was able to excite Harry so much. Now he knew for sure that his seeker was a keeper.

Eventually, the light receded back into Harry's head as the orgasm passed. Harry glanced around in shock at the now-trashed Room of Requirement.

"Oliver? What just happened?"

"I'll tell you in the morning." Oliver replied, withdrawing from Harry's used hole, "It's nothing to worry about, I promise you."

"OK."

Oliver pulled himself off of Harry and laid down next to him. He turned his back to Harry, with Harry facing the same way and starting to spoon with him, their hot, sticky flesh making contact. A clock was pinned to the wall above the door: 04:42 a.m. They'd been going at it for an hour and a half and they were both too exhausted to bathe. So that they wouldn't become uncomfortable and stuck together, Oliver muttered a few cleaning spells to clean them up.

"Oliver?" Harry asked dreamily.

"Yeah?"

"I love you."

Oliver turned back over to face Harry, their eyes meeting in a brilliant blend of emerald and hazel. He kissed him on the lips. He turned back over and resumed the spooning position.

"I love you, too." he muttered after a few seconds, tears beginning to roll down his chiselled face.

Harry's eye began to stream tears down his smooth face; Oliver _loved_ him! With that thought repeating in his head, Harry drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep; any dreams that his mind had planned for him had already happened. He thought his life couldn't get any better as he wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's chest, sinking sleepily into his muscular back…


	10. Hatred's Power

**Chapter Ten – Hatred's Power**

Saturday morning, only six days until the first Quidditch match of the season. Luckily, Harry wouldn't have to worry about training too hard for the next week since the match was between Slytherin and Hufflepuff.

Harry gingerly opened his eyes and looked directly ahead at Oliver. During the time that they were sleeping they must have broke away from the spooning and slept apart. They were now facing each other. Harry smiled like a Cheshire cat as he gazed dreamily at his naked boyfriend. After several minutes, Oliver opened his eyes and smiled widely as he saw Harry watching him.

"Now, there's a face I could wake up to each morning." he chuckled.

Harry leaned over to Oliver and kissed him. He pulled away and grinned at the older boy.

"You know, Ollie, there's one thing we still haven't tried."

"What's that?"

"We haven't tried the Jacuzzi." a cheeky smirk spread across the younger boy's face.

"We haven't have we?" Oliver realised, "Then what are we waiting-"

Three loud knocks rattled the door to the Room of Requirement on its hinges.

"Who the hell could that be?" Harry whispered.

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Wood. Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you both." a voice called.

"How do they know it's us?" Harry whispered in shock, "Nobody watched us come in did they?"

"I have no idea." Oliver whispered back.

"Who is it?" Harry shouted.

"Professor McGonagall. I spoke to Mr. Weasley and he told me that you and Mr. Wood were headed here. Get ready and follow me, please. NOW!"

The two boys scrambled off the bed and gathered their clothes, throwing them on in a haphazard manner. Oliver made to reposition the table and lamp from the night before.

"Don't worry about it." Harry assured him, "The Room of Requirement puts things back to normal itself. We don't need to clean up; that's the best thing about it!"

They looked up at the clock above the door: 11:32 a.m.

Harry opened the door to see Professor McGonagall standing there in her usual dark green robes. She wore a stern expression on her face as she always did.

"I do not appreciate being kept waiting, gentlemen. Now, if you'll please follow me, I shall take you to see Professor Dumbledore. He has something that he would like to talk to you about."

Harry gave a sideways glance towards Oliver; they both knew what Dumbledore was going to explain to them. Professor McGonagall turned on her heels and headed off down the seventh floor corridor, her robes billowing behind her. Harry and Oliver quickly set off after her. They followed her down the Grand Staircase and out the entrance hall, through the courtyard and onto the open grass outside of the castle.

It was glorious outside with not a cloud in the sky; the sun shone brightly down on the lush, green grass, the light glistening off of the surface of the Black Lake. Students dressed in their regular muggle clothes were sat at the side of the lake, many of them laughing and smiling. The weather reflected Harry's mood perfectly.

Professor Dumbledore was stood waiting for them on a small patch of dirt. He was wearing his usual half-moon spectacles with navy-coloured robes, his long, silver beard dangling down to his waist. Next to him on the grass was a black trunk. It shook violently in its place; it had been held down by two leather straps at either side. There were also three large, black balls sat on the grass next to the trunk.

"Good morning, boys." Dumbledore greeted, "Thank you, Minerva. You may return to your weekend activities."

"Thank you, Albus. Good day, Mr. Potter, Mr. Wood."

With that, Professor McGonagall turned and walked back towards the castle with a brisk pace. Dumbledore addressed the two boys.

"You may be wondering why I've asked you to see me here on a wonderful day like this instead of leaving you two to your own devices."

"Something like that." Oliver replied.

"I'll just get right down to it, shall I? Harry, you are aware of the mark that your mother left you when she gave her life to save you, are you not?"

"Yes, sir. It was love."

"Correct. And you are aware that this was what saved you from Lord Voldemort's attack that night in Godric's Hollow, are you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"This was also what saved you from Voldemort's attack when you were in your first year here. The love that your mother gave you was too strong for him to handle, and so he disappeared without a trace."

"I knew that, Professor." Harry commented.

"But you will not know what I am about to tell you. The power of love weakens a person's ability to control their magical core. This means that it will become a lot more common for them to have outbursts of magic, at least until they are trained up, when they will regain their previous control."

"So is that what happened to me on Tuesday night? I lost control of my magic and I ended up destroying nearly half the entrance hall?"

"It was not you who caused the damage in the entrance hall, my boy. It was Mr. Malfoy who caused it. I took a look at Oliver's memory of the incident, Harry. I saw that he was protecting you. I saw that it was Mr. Malfoy who used the Cruciatus curse on him. An auror has been arranged to take him to Azkaban until a trial date can be decided for him. As for what happened to you, I have a theory."

"We're all ears, Albus." Oliver stated, "Fire away."

"Very well. Whilst love can protect the witch or wizard from harmful spells, such as the killing curse, unfortunately it weakens the barrier between the two strongest emotions: pure love, and pure hatred."

"What do you mean 'barrier'?" Harry asked.

"There is a thin line between love and hate, Harry. When a witch or wizard becomes affected by the power of love, this line becomes disrupted and weakens. The weakened barrier, along with that person's inability to control their magical core, means that it becomes increasingly easy for the witch or wizard to lose control of their emotions if they experience high levels of either love or hate. If this happens, the emotion that they were experiencing begins to consume them."

"Can you use an example of how it might happen?" Oliver quizzed.

"OK. A witch or wizard might lose control of their hate powers if they become immensely agitated or someone that they love is in great distress. This happened to you on Tuesday, Harry. Likewise, they may lose control of their love powers if they become immersed in passion. For example, during sexual intercourse."

Harry was finally beginning to understand what the old wizard was talking about. He had been babbling until now and Harry hadn't had a clue what Dumbledore was getting at. But now it started to finally make sense. He blushed slightly at the mention of sex.

"From what I've seen in Oliver's memory," Dumbledore continued, "you started to become consumed by hatred when Mr. Malfoy attacked him with the Cruciatus curse. This activated your hatred for Mr. Malfoy inside of you. Because you have not yet been trained to control your emotions, it began to take over you. That was when you were able to deflect Mr. Malfoy's attacks _and_ you had the ability to knock him back without a wand."

"So does that mean that Harry can perform freehand magic, now?" Oliver wondered, piecing things together.

"Basically, yes."

"So I'm able to do magic without a wand now? I want to try it out!"

"Unfortunately, Harry, it is not that simple. It will be very easy for you to be consumed by your emotions, no matter how hard you try not to, until you have been trained properly. This is not ideal. You see, being consumed by either of the two emotions can corrupt a person's very soul if the power becomes too great for them to handle. When I say 'corrupt' I mean that the witch or wizard will act as though they have had the Dementor's Kiss."

Oliver and Harry gasped. Neither of them had anticipated that the power of love could come with such negative repercussions if approached incorrectly.

"Luckily," Dumbledore began again, "your powers have only just begun to manifest themselves so they are very weak right now. If we begin to train you immediately, the likelihood of you becoming consumed by the power will decrease dramatically."

"Train me?"

"Yes. If you want to be able to use these powers to their full potential you'll need to practice. First, we'll train you by getting you to try to control the power of hatred since it seems to have begun to manifest itself already. In here," Dumbledore nodded to the trunk, "is an Odio."

"An Odio? What's that?" Harry asked.

"The Odio is a very close relative of the Boggart. The only significant difference between the two is that the Boggart takes on the form of what we fear the most, whereas the Odio takes on the form of what we _hate_ the most."

"What do you intend for Harry to do? You're not planning on making him lose control of his rage again, are you? I warn you, Albus, if anything should happen to Harry-" Oliver was beginning to grow irritated at Dumbledore's disregard for Harry's safety.

"Everything will be fine, Oliver. I have jinxed the Odio so that it only creates small amounts of hatred inside Harry. It won't be too much for him to handle, you have my word. He needs to start off with something small before he progresses into longer, more trying, exercises."

"What exercises are you going to have him do?"

"Just a few simple offensive spell-casting exercises. Hatred increases the power of these types of spells dramatically, if utilized correctly. If Harry learns to use it properly, he could be a very strong wizard, indeed."

Dumbledore reached down to the black trunk and slid the two straps from the top. They fell on to the grass with a soft thud. Immediately after the straps left the trunk, a black ball shot upwards into the sky, sending a cloud of dust billowing out. Harry and Oliver looked up at the Odio and gazed in awe as they watched it change from a black ball to the form of Harry's most-hated person; Draco Malfoy. It landed on the grass, a vicious glint in its cold, grey eyes.

"Wait. Won't somebody see us?" Oliver worried.

"I have put the Fidelius charm in place here. We will not be visible to anyone other than Professor McGonagall."

Harry could feel a slight tingling begin to trickle through his body as the doppelganger of Malfoy stood in front of him, grinning evilly.

"What's the matter, Potter? Mudblood Granger not here to tell you what to do?" it spat.

"I can feel it… a tingling in my body…"

"Take hold of it, Harry. Grasp it with everything you have and use it to cast spells as the Odio." Dumbledore encouraged.

Harry closed his eyes tightly. Like the previous night, there was a globe of light in the centre of his mind. This time, however, it was blood-red. Unlike the white globe of light that Harry had experienced, this globe gave off sparks of lightning instead of sending out beams of light. They stung as they passed over his face, some darting right into him and sending a prickle of pain coursing through his body. Despite the stinging sensations, Harry reached out towards the globe and grabbed it.

"I… I think I've got it!" he gasped.

"Good! Harry, I want you to visualise the power flowing into your hands. Feel the magic flowing through you. Shape your hand and fingers to focus the energy and aim it at the Odio. Use this to cast the spell you want at it."

Harry closed his eyes once more. In his mind, he pictured the red energy flowing down through his arms in a hot wave and swirling around in his palms, dancing over and around his fingertips. He could feel the magic following his will as he visualised its movements. He opened his eyes.

Harry curled his right hand into a Freddy Krueger-style claw, the tingling becoming stronger and more concentrated.

"Now focus on the spell you want to cast at the Odio. Visualise yourself projecting the magic from your hands and make the motion to cast the spell." Dumbledore encouraged once more.

Harry sent his clawed hand slashing in an upwards diagonal direction.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

Four black lines of energy burst from Harry's clawed fingers as he slashed upwards and zoomed through the air towards to the Odio-Malfoy. The doppelganger yelped, four small cuts beginning to appear across its torso. Small trickles of blood dribbled out from the wounds. It snarled menacingly at Dumbledore and disappeared in a cloud of black smoke. The door to the trunk shut tightly, with the old wizard wrestling with the straps to secure the Odio back inside.

"Well done, Harry!" Dumbledore clapped standing upright, "Now, relax your muscles and feel yourself beginning to let go of the power."

Harry took a deep breath in and began to relax. He closed his eyes as he concentrated on breathing; the red globe of light was no longer there. After calming back down, he opened his eyes. Oliver walked over to him and kissed him on the cheek.

"Baby, your nose is bleeding." he worried.

Dumbledore pulled a spare handkerchief out from his dark blue robes and gave it to Oliver, who then pinched the bridge of Harry's nose tightly with it.

"Ow." Harry winced.

"Sorry. Keep holding it there. We'll see Madame Pomfrey later. You need your tests doing."

"Ohhhhhhh," the younger boy moaned, "I was hoping you'd forget about them."

Oliver laughed at Harry's remark.

"I don't think so. I'm not taking any chances with you."

He pecked Harry on the cheek once more. Harry kept holding the handkerchief to his nose.

"I think you might have over-exerted yourself here, Harry." Dumbledore explained, "Think of your new powers as muscles. The more you use it, the stronger it becomes. If you stress it too much, for example, trying to lift a house before you can lift a table, you will wear the muscle out. Therefore, if you increase your training little-by-little each day you should soon find yourself becoming stronger."

"Thank you, Professor. But what about the love side of my new power? Aren't I going to be training that today?"

"We shall leave that until next Saturday. For today, I would like you to rest. Do not try to practice today because it could result in you injuring yourself further. Remember, only train to the point that your body can handle. If you feel strange, or experience nosebleeds et cetera, stop at once and get some rest."

"OK, Professor. Thanks." Harry said.

He and Oliver walked away from the old wizard, heading back into the castle. It had been a lot of information for the two of them to take in but Harry was ecstatic that he would be able to make his magic stronger. He would need it if he wanted to be an auror when he left Hogwarts. They walked through the doors to the entrance hall, hand-in-hand.

Meanwhile, a dark figure lurked behind a tree close to the two boys. Its eyes glowed a blood-red colour, wisps of a similar-coloured aura licking out at the branches. It stood there menacingly, staring at Harry and Oliver as they entered the castle. It growled loudly, yet none of the other students seemed to have noticed. Why was it there?


	11. Love's Power

**Chapter Eleven – Love's Power**

Harry was eager to get to learn how to use his new powers. He tried to find any opportunity he could to try and stir the hate inside him so that he could jinx the Slytherins when they weren't looking, despite Dumbledore's advice, and to Oliver's dismay. Luckily for him, none of the Slytherins were as provoking as they would have been if their leader was still at Hogwarts; at least he wouldn't have to worry about losing control of his powers.

"Harry, you know I don't want to see you get hurt." Oliver pleaded, "Please, take Dumbledore's advice."

"Oliver, I know you care about me and that's why I love you so much, but I want to be able to learn to use my magic so that I can become an auror when I leave Hogwarts. If I become stronger, I'll be a force to be reckoned with in the auror squad."

"Alright, then." Oliver conceded and planted a kiss on Harry's cheek, "Just don't overdo it."

"I won't. I promise."

The time was 19:35 according to the clock on the wall above the notice board in the Gryffindor common room. Ron and Hermione would be back from their prefect duties at eight so it gave Harry and Oliver some time alone. Dean and Seamus were sat together in front of the fire. They looked sweet together as they held one another, snuggling up in front of the comfortable glow of the hearth.

"I know a place where we can go." Harry muttered to Oliver, "It's called my bedroom. Come on."

Smiling, Oliver took hold of Harry's hand and was led out of the common room towards the stairs.

"Go on, Harry!" Seamus joked, "Get yourself some of that triumphant penis!"

Dean jabbed him in the ribs.

"Seamus!" he scolded, "That's inappropriate!"

"Are you alright, Dean?" Seamus worried, stroking a finger down his face, "You're not normally like this. Come with me, I'll soon sort you out."

Dean and Seamus walked together, hand-in-hand, out of the common room and into the corridor outside. Harry took Oliver up into his bedroom.

Hedwig was rattling about in her cage again.

"I don't know what's wrong with her! She's been like this really often since we came back to Hogwarts." Harry cursed.

He took the bird out of her cage and walked over to the window. She lifted off from his arm with a whoosh and flew away from the tower.

"She might have just needed some fresh air." Oliver suggested, "She _is_ in here a lot of the time, after all."

"I suppose you're right." Harry said.

He began to walk over to Oliver in a seductive manner.

"You know how to get my motor running." Oliver winked, "I've got a kink in my trousers. Care to massage it out for me?"

"I'd be delighted to."

Harry laid his lips over Oliver's, delivering a gentle and loving kiss. He brought his hands up to the back of Oliver's head and cupped it. Oliver opened his mouth and licked at Harry's lips, urging him to open up. He did so, deepening the kiss. They moaned as they became lost in the embrace.

Oliver lifted Harry onto the bed and continued to rain kisses down upon him. He aligned their crotches up and began to grind them together in a smooth, circular motion. They continued to moan as little bolts of pleasure rippled through their bodies. Harry closed his eyes. There it was again; the globe of light floated in amongst a dense, black fog. The subtle tingling sensation returned.

"Oliver!" he shouted.

Oliver jumped up from the bed.

"What?! What's wrong?!" he fretted.

"I… I can feel it again! I'm tingling! There's a globe of light as well. But this time it's white; the one earlier today was red."

"Harry, that might be love trying to take over. Take hold of it like you did with hate!"

Harry reached out for the white globe of light. It felt warm, and comforting. He felt happy as the love began to flow through his body.

"I've got it!" he exclaimed, "What do I do now?"

"Ah. I didn't think this through." Oliver realised.

"Get Professor Dumbledore, quick!"

Oliver ran from the room, down the stairs and out of the Gryffindor common room. Harry stood up from the bed and tried to focus on the power flowing through his body. He began to panic; what would he do if he couldn't control himself?

Within a matter of minutes, Dumbledore was running up the stairs and into Harry's bedroom, followed closely behind by Oliver. Ron and Hermione were on their way, too, to Harry's surprise.

"Harry!" Hermione shouted as she watched Harry struggling to control the power inside him.

She tried to run to him but Dumbledore held out his arm to stop her.

"Leave this to me, Miss Granger."

He walked over to Harry.

"Oliver has told me exactly what you told him. He also told me the circumstances around which this started. This _is_ love flowing around you, Harry. It lets you control the four elements; fire, water, wind and earth."

"H-how do I… I… control it?!" Harry stammered.

"Visualise water flowing through your body. Feel it trickling over your skin. Feel yourself merging as one with the water."

Harry could feel a cool liquid running beneath his skin. It was refreshing and soothed the tingling in his body.

"Next I want you to-"

"I already know." Harry interrupted, "It's easy."

He turned towards the window and thrust his hand forward. A large jet of water erupted from his palm and hurtled out of the open window and down onto the ground below.

"Hey!" a girl shouted, "Now I'm soaked! Thanks a lot."

She stormed off in a huff, water dripping from her hair.

"I can do the same with wind, fire and earth too." Harry added.

"I'm surprised that you were able to pick up on this so quickly, Harry!" Dumbledore was genuinely shocked.

"But that's not all I can do, Professor. Watch."

Harry brought his arms up. As he did so, Hedwig's cage and his wardrobe lifted several feet off the ground.

"Professor, how is he doing this?!" Hermione asked.

"I have no idea, Miss Granger. He is able to control the four elements through love and he is able to increase the strength of his spells through hate. Telekinesis should not be one of the abilities granted by the love his mother gave him."

"Harry, baby, you're scaring me." Oliver ran to him, "Please. Put the wardrobe and the cage down."

Harry gazed into Oliver's beautiful, brown eyes. He let the wardrobe and the cage fall to the floor with a loud thud.

"Sorry, Oliver." Harry apologised, kissing him, "I didn't mean to scare you."

"Can someone _please_ tell me what the bloody hell's going on?" Ron shouted.

Dumbledore explained to Ron and Hermione exactly what had happened earlier that day, as well as telling them about Harry's new abilities. Ron, being Ron, found it incredibly difficult to wrap his head around. Hermione, however, seemed to work out what Dumbledore was talking about before the words had even left his mouth and she had no problem in relaying it back to Ron in terms that he could understand.

"So Harry's basically the strongest wizard ever because he has the power of love on his side?" Ron asked after Hermione explained the situation to him.

"Not quite." Dumbledore said, "It isn't love itself that makes him powerful. It's how he _uses_ it that defines this."

"So you mean, when I learn how to use my new powers, I'll be the strongest wizard ever?" Harry asked.

"Yes. In terms of magical capacity. If you truly did want to become the strongest wizard ever, however, you'd realise that the true path to power is the path of light."

"The path of light? Oh, you mean by not being evil."

"Yes, Harry. But I have every faith that will use these powers for all the right reasons and in the right ways."

"Don't worry, Professor, I will. This is gonna be great in helping me become an auror."

"I'm glad to hear that, Harry."

Dumbledore strode from the bedroom, leaving the others to talk about Harry's new abilities. It took a while before Ron finally grasped the entire concept. He was constantly asking questions about how Harry would use his powers, but Hermione merely nudged him in the side to tell him to shut up.

The light outside the window was beginning to grow redder, the sun starting to set behind the horizon. The clock on the wall in Harry's room read 20:20 p.m.

It had been a rapid forty-five minutes for both he and Oliver. They kept gazing over to each other longingly, with Ron and Hermione still in the room. Hermione noticed their eye contact and was quick to leave; she didn't want to deny Harry of his boyfriend for the night, especially since he needed extra comfort because of the stress of trying to control his new powers.

"Come on, Ron. Let's give them some time alone."

"Alright, Hermione." Ron followed her as she walked out of the door and down into the common room.

Harry strode over to Oliver and the two boys were soon lost in an enchanting kiss. This time, Harry knew what to do if his powers threatened to take over. They began to moan into each other's mouths. It was only then that Harry became aware of the still-open door to the bedroom; the others would be most likely to hear them if he didn't shut it. But he didn't want to break away from Oliver.

In his mind, he pictured everything that he would do with Oliver that night. That night, he was going to give Oliver the same favour that he had been given the night before. He was going to show Oliver the very height of pleasure; he would make sure that the keeper would see stars. Harry had been waiting for this moment for so long and he was finally able to have it.

"Harry…" Oliver muttered, breaking the kiss, "Close the door before someone hears us."

Harry decided that he'd try to make use of his powers. He pictured the door closing, this time with his eyes open; it was difficult for him to do with Oliver standing in front of him clad in just his boxer shorts. The door slammed shut, leaving a small crack in the wood around the handle.

"Holy shit, Harry!" Oliver shouted, jumping in fright, "I know you want to try and get to control your powers, but try not to break stuff while you're at it!"

"Sorry, Oliver. I didn't mean to frighten you."

"I forgive you."

Oliver pulled them both back into a bruising kiss and dragged Harry onto the bed with him, their crotches aligned like they had been before. With Oliver in control, their hard cocks grinded together from within the confines of the thick fabric of their boxer shorts. They groaned as the friction sent small shockwaves of pleasure coursing through their bodies.

"Oliver, let me show you what I can do without my hands." Harry said.

Oliver gasped as what felt like a hand stroked upwards between his and Harry's crotches. It felt warm through the fabric of his boxer shorts and stimulated all of his senses to no end. He looked down; there was nothing there. The invisible hand slowly pulled back the front of his underwear, revealing the sensitive flesh beneath, and then sent them to them floor down his legs and over his feet. He groaned loudly as he felt it grasp tightly around the base of shaft. He'd quickly gotten used to Harry giving him hand jobs but this was a completely different sensation; it was warmer than a hand, but firmer, and created more friction than skin ever could, as well as stimulating every part of him at one time. Tiny crackles of electricity surged down his length and mixed with the overwhelming pleasure already present. The mere sensation was almost enough to send Oliver hurtling over the edge into a frenzied mix of pleasure and pain. Oliver began to gasp as his body threatened to let go. Before he could reach that level of bliss he loved experiencing with Harry, the sensations ceased.

"H…Harry… Merlin… that… that felt… so good!" he panted.

"That's not the only thing that I can do." Harry replied smartly, "Lay on the bed and I'll show you."

Oliver laid on the bed, now fully naked, with his legs open, proudly showing his throbbing cock. His body was beaded with sweat, his muscles, abs and pecs glistening as the pink light from the sunset outside danced over his features. He looked divine, Harry thought. Any energy that Harry would use up to please Oliver would not be a waste.

He quickly began to work at Oliver's body with his mouth, kissing up and down his abs and pecs and flicking at his nipples with his tongue. Oliver trembled as the sensations began to course through his body, his nipples stood to attention, his rock hard cock leaking pre-cum out onto his foreskin. He wasn't sure how much longer he could last at the rate that Harry was working. He shouted loudly as he felt the invisible hand starting to move over his cock once more.

"Harry! Ngh! It's gonna make me come really soon!" he shouted.

Harry moved the invisible hand away from Oliver's cock. He kissed him passionately, their tongues darting in and out of each other's mouths. Before Oliver knew it, there was a burning sensation at his entrance. He looked down expecting to see Harry pushing into him; instead there was nothing there. It was Harry's invisible hand using one of its fingers to open him up and get him ready for what Harry planned for them. He cooperated with the fingers and relaxed his body, readying himself for the younger boy. Eventually he felt completely relaxed and ready to give himself to Harry.

"_This is it._" Oliver thought to himself, "_I've waited so long for this, and now I'm finally getting it. I'm finally losing my virginity. And who better to give it to than my precious Harry?_"

"Baby…" he muttered, "Take me."

That was all that Harry needed. He stroked a finger up and down Oliver's entrance. He visualised water flowing from his finger and thickening as it left his skin. It created a lubricant that was quickly spread over Oliver's tight hole. Harry took hold of the older boy's legs and placed them on his shoulders. He grabbed his cock and guided to his hole, lining it up with the tight ring of muscles.

"Are you ready, baby?" Harry asked, "If this hurts _at all_ I want you to tell me and I'll pull out. I'm gonna return the favour after last night. I'm gonna rock your world."

"Do it. I know what to expect after last night."

Harry gave a firm push forward. The head of his cock slipped into Oliver, the tight muscles relaxing as he slowly made his way inside. Oliver shouted as a burning sensation thundered from his tight hole as he adjusted to Harry's presence.

"It… it burns…" he stammered.

"I'm so sorry, Oliver. I think I might have a way to help you."

He began to picture warm water running from the end of his cock into Oliver. As he did so, he felt the liquid begin to seep into the keeper. Oliver sighed in relief as the burning sensation was soothed by the gentle heat of the water.

"That feels better. You can go in all the way now."

Harry gave another firm push. This time his shaft slid freely inside Oliver and pressed directly against his prostate, gaining a loud scream from the keeper.

"Fuck!" he bellowed, "Give it to me!"

Harry was shocked at Oliver's animalistic nature; it was so out of character for him to be so sexual, and the change had only taken a few seconds!

"Move inside me!" he growled.

Harry pulled back slightly, brushing against the older boy's prostate. Oliver yelped and began to claw at the bed sheets around him. Pushing forward once again, Harry placed Oliver's legs at either side of his hips and laid on top of the keeper, with Oliver's hard cock rubbing against Harry's toned abs, their eyes aligned perfectly in a brilliant mix of emerald and hazel. They pressed their lips together as Harry began to thrust slowly but firmly into Oliver.

Oliver roared as the sensations thundered through his body, sending cataclysms of pleasure directly to his brain. He continued to yelp and shout as Harry moved in and out of him. His tight hole clung to Harry's throbbing cock as the younger boy pushed and pulled, hitting the prostate with every thrust. Oliver's cock was leaking vast amounts of cum onto Harry's abs, but he still hadn't reached his peak.

Harry was getting closer. The familiar knot appeared in his scrotum as the orgasm began to make itself present. He used all his will to stop himself from blowing his load just yet; he had to get Oliver over the edge first. Miraculously, the knot subsided. He could influence his own body with his powers, he thought.

He used his invisible hand to grasp the base of Oliver's cock and began to work it up and down. Oliver moaned loudly as the sensations bombarded his system, with the little sparks of lightning from the invisible hand sending tiny prickles of pleasurable pain coursing through his body.

As Harry continued to thrust inside Oliver, the familiar knot began to appear again. This time, Harry welcomed it; he could see that Oliver was almost over the edge from the expressions that were plastering themselves over the keeper's face.

"Ngh! HARRY!" Oliver screamed, the orgasm beginning its thunderous journey around his body.

Several thick streams of cum splattered up and across his and Harry's bodies. He gripped onto Harry's arse cheeks tightly as he began to surrender to the orgasm and began to wail wildly. The muscles in his arse constricted around Harry's length, pulling the younger boy over the edge.

He exploded inside Oliver, the cum spouting out of his used hole and onto the sheets below. The intensity of the orgasm stirred Harry's powers from within. He managed to grab hold of the white globe of light before the power took over him. As he did so, a warm feeling rushed over his entire body. The bed sheets began to flutter around at the side of the two boys. A huge pillar of hot light enveloped Harry, his eyes emitting a radiant, white light. It all disappeared as quickly as it had happened, the only trace being the ruffled bed sheets.

He pulled out of Oliver and laid on the bed next to him, exhausted. The keeper looked divine with his tanned skin covered in hot, sticky cum. They both turned to face each other.

"Baby… I love you so much." Oliver muttered, leaning over to Harry to give him a sweet kiss, "That was incredible. It was so gentle and right. I'm glad I gave myself to you."

"I love you too, Ollie. I think I'm finally getting to grips with this 'Power of Love' deal." Harry replied, returning the kiss.

"'Finally'? What do you mean 'finally'? You only started learning about it today."

"I'm a quick learner, Oliver. I learned what to do after last night, if you know what I mean." Harry winked.

Oliver chuckled.

The light outside was beginning to dim, with the deep blue of the night sky beginning to replace the pinkish tinge that the two boys had made love under. Harry used his abilities to clean both he and Oliver up. Oliver shivered as the cold, night air swept in through the window and attacked his naked body. Harry merely visualised a flame on his hand and stroked over Oliver's ads and pecs, warming him back up.

"Thanks, Harry." Oliver smiled.

"Any time."

With those last remarks, they snuggled together in the spooning position, with Oliver's arms wrapped around Harry's chest. The past hour of love-making had been a welcome return to normalcy for Harry. Although he was excited about the prospects that his new-found abilities had given him, he still longed for a normal life. He hoped that when he killed Voldemort back in his first year, it would be the last time that he would see himself in the Daily Prophet. But there was a certain journalist intent on keeping him in the public eye; if word of his new powers got out he would, once again, be the talk of the wizarding world, even more so than he already was after the dramatic outing of his and Oliver's relationship. But he didn't have to worry about those things right now. He was comfortable as he was, safely in Oliver's arms.

Lurking outside at the bottom of the tower stood the same shadowy, lone figure that had been hidden behind the tree earlier that day. It glared menacingly up at the window where Harry and Oliver were sleeping, its dark, red eyes glinting evilly as it became enshrouded by the thick, night air.

"That power is mine…" it growled to itself.


	12. Normalcy

**Chapter Twelve – Normalcy**

The next few weeks passed by without so much as a glance. Harry and Oliver's relationship continued to blossom, as well as the incredible advancements made by Harry in his training. He and Oliver had worked out a rather unorthodox method of training both sides of Harry's powers in private; in order to train Harry's love they would engage in passionate sex, filled with love and compassion for one another, but when they wanted to train the hate they would use whips and other methods of inflicting pain in order to arouse the power within him. It worked well and Harry was growing stronger by the day even if, at times, they had both had to go to the hospital wing in order to get some injuries seen to. Whilst they had been in a fair amount of pain when they were injured, they still managed to laugh it off and even make love.

It was now the middle of October, and Halloween was a mere two weeks away. Notices had been put up in the common rooms and around the school telling students about a dance that would take place in the Great Hall on Halloween. As was expected of them, Harry and Oliver decided to go; it looked like it would be a lot of fun, especially with Ron and Hermione, and Seamus and Dean, joining them, along with several other couples from the other houses. Even those not in a relationship were looking forward to the dance, having agreed with their friends to accompany each other.

Hufflepuff had won the first Quidditch match of the season, defeating Slytherin with a shameful result of 20-370. The Slytherin team had to make a hasty replacement for Draco Malfoy, who was now locked safely away in Azkaban for using two of the three Unforgivable Curses. He'd be in there for a very long time. His absence had cost the Slytherin team the match, and possibly the entire cup due to the huge difference in points _and_ the fact that his father had paid the team to make him captain, just as he had bought Nimbus 2001s for the team back in Harry's second year. They were nothing without their captain. A meagre 20 points was hardly anything to compete with, by any standard.

Schoolwork continued to be consistently manageable for Harry and left him with time to spend with Oliver. They hadn't really been out on a date since that night in the Forbidden Forest, but what a night it had been, at least until Malfoy decided to ruin it. But at least Harry was able to find out about his new abilities, and it was all thanks to Malfoy's insufferableness. At first, Harry was terrified about what he could do, but chose not to show it in case he came across as a coward. But now it was different. Now, he could control it. Now, it was the power being consumed by him instead of it being the other way around. Whilst the abilities made his normal life that much easier, it also made his sex life with Oliver a lot more interesting; he could affect Oliver in ways that any normal human couldn't. He could reach points of pleasure that not even the most advanced alchemist or muggle scientist would be aware of.

Quidditch practice had been running smoothly, with Oliver becoming more and more demanding as the days passed. Harry had expected him to lay off slightly since they were together but he knew he should have known better; Oliver would never put anybody first, especially when it came to Quidditch. Harry loved Oliver's honest and caring nature. He knew that the keeper was the perfect match for him and he was never going to let him go.

As per usual, Oliver had woke the entire team up at the crack of dawn the day before in order to fit one last practice session in before Gryffindor's first Quidditch match, against Ravenclaw. It had been a very exhausting session, with Oliver making Harry catch five golden snitches in the space of only twenty minutes. Ron had also been subjected to the same sort of torture, with Ginny and the other chasers being given stronger potions to increase their power in order to provide Ron with an ever greater challenge. There had been several times when he had almost fallen off his broom. After the session had ended, they made their way to the changing rooms. Fortunately for Harry, he had been able to get a bit of lip time in with Oliver after everybody had headed back up to the castle, but this was as far as it went; they were both very exhausted after the practice session and both decided to go their separate ways to get some much-needed rest.

Harry was sat alone in the library. He wondered to himself as to why he was there, but then he remembered Hermione nagging him to keep studying even if he was up-to-date with his schoolwork. Hermione was a great friend, but she could be a little insufferable at times with her incessant nagging and lecturing about the importance of education. Harry merely zoned out each time she went on one of her little rants.

"Honestly, Harry," as she had often complained, "how do you expect to become an auror with that attitude towards work?"

Like most others times, Harry hadn't even been paying attention, so the moaning fell on deaf ears. But he knew that she only meant well. With this thought in mind, he buried his head into a transfiguration text book. He groaned loudly as the boredom set in. After ten agonising minutes of studying, Ron came into the library.

"Alright there, Harry?" he greeted.

"I would be if Hermione hadn't have nagged me into coming here to study." Harry replied, pulling his face up from the book, Where is she, anyways? She said she'd meet me here."

"Actually, she told me to come here to tell you; she has to go down to the Black Lake. Something about a duelling club match and she's a referee."

"Why's Hermione getting involved? Shouldn't it be the responsibilities of the teachers to referee that kind of thing, instead of the head boy and girl? I mean, they have better things to be doing than judging competitions."

"Yeah. It's getting irritating, though. Me and Hermione could be in bed in the middle of-"

"I'd stop there if I were you, Ron. I don't need details of your sex life with Hermione." Harry laughed.

"Sorry, Harry. Anyway, we could be 'together' and then she could have an owl swooping in through the window and everything gets ruined because she 'has to go'."

"Have you tried talking to her about it?"

"Yeah. But she just keeps telling me that she'll get it sorted. I don't know if that's ever gonna happen, though."

"I'm sure it will. Anyway, I'm sick of sitting around in here. Have you felt how hot it is?" Harry asked, standing up from his chair.

It was indeed hot in the library. The glass on the windows only served to intensify the heat from the already-burning rays on sunshine, and it didn't help that Harry had positioned himself directly in its path.

"Tell me about it." Ron replied, "We'll go to the Black Lake to see how Hermione's holding up. Come on."

Harry gathered his things and walked with Ron down the Grand Staircase, through the entrance hall and down to the Black Lake, where a large crowd had gathered. They stood amongst the congregation.

Flashes of light zipped through the air in opposite directions as two students duelled fiercely. Hermione was stood with Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore, watching intently at the duel.

"Doesn't it seem a bit… aggressive… to you?" Ron muttered to Harry.

"I know. It's like they're trying to kill each other." Harry muttered back.

Hermione looked over and saw Harry and Ron standing next to the crowd. She excused herself from the other two Professors and made her way over to them.

"Harry, I thought you were supposed to be in the library." Hermione nagged, with Harry immediately zoning out, and Ron chuckling slightly as Harry's expression went blank.

"Hermione, lay off him, will you? He's doing fine enough with his lessons as it is." Ron reasoned, "It's only the middle of October and you're already nagging at him."

"I'm only thinking about his education, Ronald." Hermione retorted, "He's going to need it if he wants to be an auror when he leaves Hogwarts."

"Hermione, I'll be fine. Just let me have some enjoyment in my life." Harry joined.

"You have all the enjoyment you need with Oliver. You need to buckle down and start studying."

"Hermione, I know you're only trying to help but can you please leave me be? Like Ron said, I'm doing fine in lessons as it is."

"Fine. But don't come running to me when you get behind on your schoolwork." Hermione stormed off in a huff back to Dumbledore and McGonagall.

The duel in front of them appeared to be growing fiercer by the minute, with increasingly powerful jinxes and curses being thrown back and forth. It was a duel between a Gryffindor student and a Slytherin student. It was clear that they held only complete contempt for one another as they began to shout their spells louder and louder with each passing minute. The air was filled with a maelstrom of colours and incantations, with several bystanders very nearly being hit by some of the curses.

"Why aren't Dumbledore and McGonagall interfering? At this rate one of them is gonna be killed." Ron whispered.

Looking over at Hermione, Harry noticed that she appeared to wear an extremely concerned expression. Clearly, she was worried about the same thing that he and Ron were worried about. Yet Dumbledore and McGonagall continued to watch on, to Harry's complete astonishment. The duel became more intense, with each duellist beginning to suffer from exhaustion. Both of them appeared to be riddled with superficial wounds. Harry had had enough.

Whilst the two duellists were resting and regaining their stamina, Harry walked up to Professor McGonagall.

"Professor, how can you just stand by and watch them fight like this? It's getting far too out of hand. They're using harmful spells!"

"You make a good point, Potter." McGonagall admitted.

She pointed her wand at her neck and spoke in a clear, booming voice.

"This duel is coming to an end due to the inexplicably aggressive natures shown by the two duellists. Thirty points shall be taken from each of their houses for such an unruly display."

The crowd groaned as their entertainment was brought to a swift end. They dispersed from the congregation and headed in their separate directions.

"So what are we going to do now? That was our only entertainment for the day." Ron moaned as he walked over to Harry and Hermione.

"It's only half past one, Ron." Harry said, "I'm sure we can find _something_ to do."

"Yeah. But what?"

So far it had been a pretty boring Saturday; Harry had been stuck up in the library at Hermione's command since nine o'clock that morning, and he needed some form of outlet to have fun. At least he was able to amuse himself slightly whilst he was up in the library by using his telekinesis to move a few books around and play some pranks on Madam Pince, although they weren't exactly up to the standards that Fred and George had set. The trio stood in silence. After a few minutes, Hermione made a suggestion.

"How about we go on a double date? I've just realised that you and Oliver have been going out for over a month now and we still haven't taken you two out for dinner. Speaking of Oliver, where is he?"

An expression of clear uncertainty appeared on Ron's face.

"That sounds like a great idea. I'll see what Oliver's doing later. Right now he's down at the gym in Hogsmeade." Harry replied, concerned about Ron's facial expression, "What time shall we meet up, and where?"

"About eight tonight, in the entrance hall. Ron and I aren't doing anything, are we, Ron?" Hermione nudged her boyfriend in the side after seeing his reaction to the organisation of the double date.

"Ow- er… not that I can think of." Ron stammered as he stumbled to the side.

"Great! There's a bar in Hogsmeade that I've heard people talking about; apparently it's a great place for students to hang out." Harry stated.

"Sounds good." Hermione commented, "Now, what are we gonna do until then?"

"I was gonna do some more practicing. I've gotten to the stage where I can easily use either side of my power whenever I want. I could do with some help, though. Would you two help a friend out?" Harry smiled cheekily.

"Well at least you're trying to learn about _something_." Hermione joked, "What do you want us to do?"

"Come with me."

Harry took Ron and Hermione up to the seventh floor corridor, where the Room of Requirement would be waiting for them. As he stood in the empty corridor, facing the wall, he began to visualise what it was that he needed the most. After several minutes, the door appeared in front of them. The trio walked in.

The room was very spacious, with hardly any décor, and a large, silver grate on the floor, with what looked like water sitting below. In the middle of the room was a small, round patch of solid concrete. Dotted around the outside were several wooden dummies and chests lined up perfectly. The metal corners of the chests made an ear-splitting clang as they made contact with the metal grate; whatever it was in the chests was making them rattle furiously in their places. Tall stacks of porcelain plates towered above the dummies. Ron and Hermione found it very unnerving but Harry simply walked onto the concrete in the middle of the room and faced one of the wooden dummies. Eventually, Hermione managed to speak up.

"So what would you like us to do?" she asked.

"Could one of you stand next to the plates and throw one up into the air one-at-a-time?"

"I'll do it." Ron volunteered.

He walked over to one of the many stacks and took a plate.

"So what are you going to do? Is this like that whole muggle 'skeet' thing you were telling me about?"

"It's exactly like that. I want to improve my aim when I cast spells."

Ron threw the plate into the air. He and Hermione watched as it soared across the room like a Frisbee. Harry was instantly able to grasp the power he needed. With a burning sensation coursing through his body, he made an over arm swing for the plate. A small ball of fire shot out of his open palm and blazed across the room towards the plate. Instead of hitting its target, however, it careened towards Hermione. She screamed as the fireball hurtled towards her and dived out of the way. It collided with the wall and left a huge dent in the stonework. Fragments of rubble ruptured from the wall and scattered across the room with a cacophonous explosion.

"Holy shit, Harry!" Hermione shouted, taking Harry and Ron aback by her swearing, "Try not to almost hit me next time, hm?"

She wasn't pleased.

"Sorry, Hermione. Stand next to Ron and you shouldn't get hit by anything." Harry smiled in return.

The next few attempts to hit the plates gradually became much more accurate, with the strength of Harry's fireballs increasing, too. After a while, Harry was hitting every plate on his first try, and it was impressing Ron and Hermione massively. He eventually grew tired of the target practice and moved onto projecting the four elements with his hands.

"Watch." he told Ron and Hermione as he turned towards one of the wooden dummies.

Gathering the power inside him once more, Harry visualised a long trail of fire projecting from his hands. He thrust his hands forward. Indeed, a trail of fire burst forth and blazed through the air in the direction of the wooden dummy. The flames licked out at all sides, the heat beginning to fill the room. Ron and Hermione gasped; this was the first time that they had seen Harry produce one of the four elements, let alone fire itself. He jerked his hand to the left, and the flames followed. Harry made a circular motion with his hand and watched in awe as the flames begin to surround the wooden dummy, beginning to spiral down from the head to the toes, being careful not to set it on fire, all the while guiding it away from where Ron and Hermione were stood so as to not burn them. The bright, orange flames curled and swirled around the dummy in a copper haze. Eventually, Harry relinquished his control of the flames and let them take hold of the dummy. The fire roared as it engulfed the wooden frame, the stench of burnt wood beginning to fill the trio's nostrils.

"H-Harry!" Hermione stammered, "That's amazing!"

"I haven't even gotten started yet. I can do a lot more than this." Harry boasted.

Harry inhaled deeply as he began to feel a light wisp of air floating daintily around him. He reached out to it with his mind and began to control it, beckoning it to surrender to his control. It conceded, allowing him to take control of it. He swept his arms to the left and moved into the motion, carrying on moving around in a full three hundred and sixty degree turn. A gust of air followed the delicate path that his arms had laid out and took the flames with them, spreading over and around the rest of the wooden dummies. The room was soon filled with the thunderous roar of fire as the flames licked out in the middle of the room where Harry was stood. Ron and Hermione was continually moving out of the way of the feral flames, desperate to avoid a serious scorching. The heat in the room was unbearable as the strength of the flames continued to grow.

"Harry, is there any way that you can turn down the heat a little bit?" Ron pleaded, "I'm sweating my arse off here!"

"Heh, no problem." Harry chuckled.

The ground beneath the metal grates shook violently, followed closely by a huge wave of water erupting in the air and cascading back down into the grate. Harry pulled the water back up from the ground and whirled it around in the air, little specks of water dotting his glasses and soaking Ron and Hermione in the process, who were unable to jump out of the way due to the flames behind them.

"T-thanks, Harry!" they spluttered sarcastically.

"Sorry!" Harry apologised.

He pushed his arms outwards and sent the water hurtling towards the wooden dummies. The flames were immediately extinguished, leaving behind the ashen frames of the dummies. Deep cracks ran along the wood, with bits of the woodwork chipping away and falling through the grate into the water below, leaving only a few small splashes audible. Hermione and Ron sighed in exasperation as they were now fully-soaked. They glared at Harry for a short while before bursting into fits of laughter.

"You're gonna pay for messing up my hair, Harry." Hermione uttered in between breaths.

"I quite like being wet!" Ron giggled.

Harry laughed along with them.

"Well, what do you think of my powers?" Harry asked.

"Mate, they're great. I can definitely see them helping you when you become an auror." Ron praised.

"_If_ he becomes an auror, Ronald. Don't forget, Harry, you still need to study." Hermione activated her nagging mode once again.

"Oh come on, Hermione. Leave the poor lad alone." Ron defended Harry.

"Relax, I'm kidding! Harry, those powers are great! Be careful, though. You never know who, or what, might be after them."

"Relax, Hermione. Nothing bad's happened since we were in our first year. What could possibly go wrong now?" Ron assured her.

"I suppose so. Anyway, what are we gonna do about this mess?" Hermione motioned towards the crumbling dummies and the singed-and-chipped stone wall.

"The Room of Requirement fixes itself, Hermione." Harry told her.

"Oh."

"But I want to show you both just one last thing." he teased.

He clapped his hands together, hard.

"_Reducto!_" he shouted.

An electric ring of light burst out from Harry's clasped hands and hurtled outwards from the centre of the room towards the wooden dummies. The dummies exploded with intense ferocity as the spell made impact, shattering the woodwork and sending splinters of lumber into the well beneath the grate below.

"Merlin, Harry!" exclaimed Ron, "That was bloody brilliant!"

"Hehe, I try." Harry chuckled in response.

Harry steadied himself in the aftermath of the spell and started to walk with Hermione and Ron out of the Room of Requirement, and back to Gryffindor tower. They had spent a staggering three hours in the Room of Requirement; the time was now 4:30 p.m.

Oliver was sat in the common room when the trio got back to Gryffindor tower. He looked as stunning as ever, Harry thought. He wore a tight, navy vest which showed off his abs and pecs perfectly, his frame exposed to perfection, with a pair of grey jogging shorts and matching trainers. His muscled legs stood out prominently beneath him. He greeted Harry with a light peck on the cheek, with Seamus whooping in the background in his usual sarcastic manner. Why couldn't he have the decency that his boyfriend, Dean, had?

"Hi, Ollie." Harry smiled.

"Hey, baby. Where've you been?" Oliver asked.

"We went to the Room of Requirement so that I could show Ron and Hermione my powers."

"They _are_ coming along really great, Harry. But next time, invite me along, will you? I like seeing you in action. It gets me all hot and bothered." Oliver winked.

"Ooh, naughty." Harry flirted back.

Ron shifted uncomfortably where he stood, with Hermione nudging him for the millionth time.

"Are we making you uncomfortable, Ron?" Harry asked, "Because if we are, we can stop."

"Yeah," Oliver agreed, "we don't want to make you feel uncomfortable around us."

"No, it's OK. I shouldn't stop you two from showing you love each other."

"Thanks, Ron, I appreciate it." Harry smiled.

"Anyways, I'm hungry. Who wants to go and get something to eat?"

"Honestly, Ronald. What is it with you and food?" Hermione asked exasperatedly.

"Oh, speaking of food." Harry remembered, "Hermione suggested that we go on a double date tonight."

"Oh, that sounds nice. Where at, and what time are we going?"

"Eight o'clock." Hermione answered, "We'll meet up in the entrance hall and we'll head down into Hogsmeade. According to Harry, there's a student-friendly bar down there."

"Ah, I heard about that place. It's called WizenYouth. And yeah, it's a great place for students. The strongest drink they serve is alcohol-free firewhiskey so we should be fine."

"Wait, won't we need permission to be out of bed at that time?" Ron asked.

"I'll clear things with Professor Dumbledore, Ron. Don't worry." Oliver assured him.

It was a mere three and a half hours away from the double date, and time couldn't have been moving any slower. The seconds felt like minutes and the minutes felt like hours. Harry and Oliver sat together at a table in front of the notice board, playing a game of wizard chess in order to whittle the time away, whilst Hermione helped Ron catch up on some schoolwork. Everything was returning back to normal, and Harry was glad of it.


	13. WizenYouth

**Chapter Thirteen – WizenYouth**

"Oliver, we're going to be late if you don't hurry up!" Harry scolded.

The time was 7:50 p.m. and Oliver was nowhere near being ready for the double date with Ron and Hermione. Harry had been ready for little over half an hour now, having started to get changed at the same time as Oliver. Yet his boyfriend seemed intent on improving his looks. Harry was constantly having to remind him that he looked fine the way he was, but he was having none of it. Oliver hurried around his living quarters, slapping countless blobs of muggle-made hair gel on and spiking up his fringe. If he wasn't pleased with how he looked, he'd wash the gel off and start again, much to Harry's intense annoyance. He'd eventually settled for a few subtle spikes on the fringe of his hair. Harry began to regret nagging him when he noticed how much more stunning Oliver looked in the dull light coming from the flickering fireplace. It took every ounce of his being to not make love to him there in that very spot. But then he remembered the rush that they were in.

7:55 p.m. and Oliver still hadn't dressed, clad in just his boxer shorts. Now growing incredibly irritated at Oliver's vain attitude, Harry ran into the older boy's bedroom and tore a pair of light blue denim jeans and a white t-shirt out from his wardrobe. He ran back into the living area, flustered, and threw the clothes at Oliver.

"Put these on."

"I can't put these on, Harry! I want to look my best." Oliver moaned.

"You already _do_ look your best, Ollie. Honestly, who'd have thought it; Oliver Wood, the Quidditch player, fussing about how looked. Nothing in the world can make you look even more stunning than you already do." Harry complimented, walking up to Oliver and stroking a finger down his cheek.

"Aw, you always know exactly what to say to me. I love you, Harry." Oliver pressed his pink lips to Harry's in a gentle kiss.

"I love you, too." Harry replied.

Oliver slid the t-shirt and jeans on, as well as grabbing a pair of socks and a bottle of aftershave out of the bedroom, and slipping his white trainers on. He sprayed some of the cologne on himself and gave the bottle to Harry, who also applied some.

"I'm ready to go now." Oliver announced.

"It's about bloody time." Harry jibed, "We're late."

Indeed they _were_ late; the clock on the wall above Oliver's fireplace read 8:05 p.m.

They walked briskly out of Oliver's living quarters and down out the Astronomy tower, across the grass and up to the main doors to Hogwarts. Hermione and Ron were on their way out of the doors when they bumped into the pair.

"Oh, hello, you two!" Hermione greeted, "We were just coming over to see where you were. What took you?"

"Ollie, here, was fussing over his appearance." Harry teased Oliver, slinging an arm over the taller boy's shoulders.

Oliver blushed slightly at Harry's comment, yet Ron and Hermione remained silent on the matter.

"Are we ready to go then?" Ron asked cheerfully, "I heard there's a karaoke on at WizenYouth tonight. Apparently, they're adding a few muggle songs to the selection, along with wizarding ones."

"Sounds great!" Oliver chirped, "I really hope they play 'La La Love' by Ivi Adamou. I love that song."

"Me too!" Hermione responded, surprised at Oliver's knowledge of muggle music, "How do you know about muggle songs?"

The group began to walk down to Hogsmeade as they carried on their conversation. Oliver told Hermione about how his muggle grandmother had raised him since he was a small child, and how his parents had abandoned him. His mother had been a witch, but his father was a muggle. His father knew this about his mother before Oliver was conceived. Once he was born his mother slipped into a heavy state of post-natal depression, and abandoned him, leaving him on his muggle grandmother's doorstep, and running off with his father. It turned out that his grandmother had no idea that her son's wife was a witch, and was surprised to find that Oliver was, indeed, a wizard when he received his Hogwarts letter on his eleventh birthday. She was proud to have a wizard for a grandson, having already had a witch for a younger sister. Luckily, Oliver's family was relatively wealthy, and were able to afford his school supplies without any difficulty, but this was not something that Oliver boasted about during his time at Hogwarts, much like Harry didn't flaunt about the vast amounts of gold that lay hidden deep beneath Gringotts in his own vault.

The trip down to Hogsmeade was a fairly short one. The group walked down the bustling street; despite it being eight o'clock at night, there was still a fair amount of villagers walking around. The familiar shops lined the sides of the path, some open and some not, but those that _were_ open had a steady stream of customers flowing in and out of their doors. Honeydukes, however, seemed fairly quiet tonight. It must have been because there were no students around to buy sweets, Harry thought. The Three Broomsticks stood proudly at the end of the street, brimming with customers as it always did, with many witches and wizards stood outside sipping tankards of firewhiskey and butterbeer. The Hog's Head was shrunk back in a dark corner of the street, with a few shady-looking wizards lurking outside on the creaky benches. Harry thought it necessary to avoid the pub at all costs; it had always had an uncomfortable atmosphere, even from a distance.

"Any ideas of where to go?" Oliver asked, "I've just realised that I have no idea where WizenYouth is."

The group burst into laughter at the realisation that they had organised the double date without prior planning. Luckily, Madam Rosmerta was standing outside of the pub with some of her patrons, singing wildly. She overheard their predicament and stumbled over to them, grinning madly. She was obviously drunk.

"If yer lookin' fer WeezenYoof," she slurred, pointing with a floppy arm, "turn left - hic - here and keep going stwaight. There's a big - hic - neon sign about thwee houses down. Yer can't - hic - miss it."

Harry, Oliver and Ron struggled to fight back fits of laughter, but Hermione merely glared sternly at them. She thanked Madam Rosmerta for the directions and turned back round to the three boys who were now cackling like a group of Cornish pixies. She shook her head in embarrassment, smirking slightly at their high-pitched laughter. It was a rather unusual spectacle, and caught the attention of many older witches and wizards, who stared at them.

Hermione led them off into a rather-narrow side street. Small houses lined the street, with dark patches of grass in between buildings. It was starting to grow darker now, with the moon intermittently casting a subtle glow on the ground below as light, wispy clouds passed through the sky. The group carried on walking down the narrow street.

They eventually stopped outside a lively building, with music echoing out through the open windows, the sound of bass thumping through the walls. It was full of students, from what Harry could tell. As Madam Rosmerta had said, a large neon sign hung high above the old, oak door. It read:

'WizenYouth'

"Here we are." Harry stated cheerily, "Let's go inside."

The group walked in through the door. Inside it was very hot, and humid. All students were permitted to be at the bar, but only those in the fifth year and up were permitted to be here after hours. There was a secret passageway from Hogwarts that led directly to the cellar, but what was strange was that it didn't appear on the Marauders' map. It must have been recently constructed because the map normally only revealed passageways that the original marauders had found, which is also why the Room of Requirement didn't show up on the map either.

There was a lot of Hogwarts students in the bar, with the majority of them dancing on the dance floor in front a relatively-short platform, where several large speakers boomed out music from different bands, both muggle and wizarding, from either side of the tiny stage. Fred and George Weasley, much to the group's surprise, were stood on the stage. They were the DJs. They didn't seem to have noticed Ron waving at them to get their attention, and if they did they were clearly ignoring him to annoy him.

"Gits…" Ron mumbled.

A big banner was plastered on the wall behind them. In huge, bold letters the poster read:

'WizenYouth Muggle Muddle - A Mix of Muggle and Wizarding music for tonight only!'

Then below in a smaller font:

'Karaoke, dance party, muggle entertainment; pool, snooker, darts, table football, air hockey…'

As was promised on the poster, there was a whole host of different muggle entertainment available. Two wooden tables covered in green velvet stood side by side over in one side of the room, one holding balls in a variety of colours, and the other holding two sets of balls - one red, one yellow - and a black ball. On the other side of the room, next to the stage, was a white table with two different-coloured paddles, and a thin puck. Whilst Harry had expected it to be plugged into a mains socket, as he had seen many times before in the muggle world, he knew that he should have known better; this was the wizarding world - they would have no concept of electricity. Instead, the machine operated through charms and enchantments placed by the owner, who was currently stood behind the bar tending to several students at once. It was a very busy and lively place. Lined along the edge of the room was one long bench-like seat, separated in parts by several vertical, floral-designed partitions. Chairs and tables were placed in front of the bar, many of them occupied by students, although some of the students got up and joined the throng on the dance floor. 'Do the Hippogriff' by The Weird Sisters was playing.

So far, the only active parts of the club were the bar and dance floor. Even though it was packed with students, there were still several patrons who looked older than Oliver. In one corner of the room sat the other three Quidditch captains, much to Oliver's great surprise; they weren't known to be sociable, instead only coming out of their living quarters to coach their respective teams, and at meal times. Rynold Hedgeforth, the Hufflepuff Quidditch captain, noticed Oliver and waved one of his gangly arms to get his attention.

"Mr. Wood!" he shouted over the booming of the music.

Oliver smiled and waved back at him, but shook his head as he gestured to the others who were stood next to him. Hedgeforth seemed to understand and sank back into his seat, disappointed. The other two captains, Milia Swampstead and Griselda Snortson, were sat talking to each other about something that Oliver couldn't quite make out. Their mouths seemed to move too fast for him to be able to, at least, read their lips to make out what they were saying. He simply ignored them.

Ron, just like his father, had a huge interest in muggle-related items and Harry and the others soon found themselves roaring with laughter as he inspected every little inch of the pool, snooker and air hockey tables, scrutinising every last bit of oak. The barman shook his head and laughed from behind the bar. Harry was shocked that he hadn't recognised who the barman was sooner; it was Dumbledore! He looked rather strange in clothes other than his regular navy-blue robes. Tonight he was wearing a brown waistcoat, with brown and white stripy trousers and brown leather boots.

"Professor?" Harry asked, surprised, "You're the barman here?"

He nudged Oliver.

"What is it, Harry?"

"The barman! Look who it is!"

Oliver burst into laughter as he saw Dumbledore walking out from behind the bar to greet them, smiling. Ron and Hermione turned round to see what Oliver was laughing at when they, too, started chuckling.

"Good to see you all here!" Dumbledore beamed, "I hope you have a wonderful time. Please, help yourself to our selection of muggle foods and confectionery. It's all free! And Harry, I'm not just the barman - I own this club."

Lined along the bar were several plates of different types of food, all of them incredibly strange to Ron. Hamburgers, chips, pizza, steak pies, sausage rolls, chicken legs, bowls of rice pudding, jam roly-poly and saucers piled high with sherbet lemons, toffee and strawberry bonbons, and cola cubes; it all looked incredibly delectable, almost to the high standard that the feasts at Hogwarts had set. There were, of course, platters of wizarding foods such as pumpkin pie and treacle tart. Several jugs of pumpkin juice stood to the side of the vast amounts of food. Harry wondered to himself how in the world Dumbledore had managed to run WizenYouth if he was buying in such amounts of food and then merely giving it away to his patrons - how did he expect to make money? But Harry thought it be rude to ask, and left it at that. Instead he walked over to the bar with the others and began helping himself to a slice of pizza, which was very tasty. He put one more on his plate, along with a chicken leg and a couple of sausage rolls. Hermione and Oliver also chose a selection of food and made their way over to an available table. Ron was scuttling around the bar like a lost sheep, trying to work out which food to try first. He really was enjoying the night so far, even if they had only just walked in. He eventually settled for a plate piled high with half a dozen chicken legs, several slices of pizza, and two steak pies. The others laughed as Ron struggled to make his way over to the table, his head hidden behind the mountain of food that was blocking his view. He placed the food down on the table and began scoffing away at the chicken legs like ravenous werewolf.

"You'd give Lupin a run for his money!" Oliver joked as Ron gnawed at the bone on one of his chicken legs.

Hermione had grown accustomed to her boyfriend's overzealous feeding frenzies and merely chuckled as he wolfed his food down. He'd made quick work of his chicken legs, with the bare bones lying flat on his plate. Next up - his steak pies. While Ron was busy eating his food, Oliver turned to Harry.

"How about we have a go on the karaoke?" he suggested.

"I'll join you later. You can go on if you want." Harry smiled.

"It's no fun when you're on your own…" Oliver moaned and battered his eyelids, "Pretty please with a snitch on top?"

Harry couldn't resist the sight of Oliver fluttering his eyelids. He'd never done it before and it was a very strange spectacle, one that made Ron and Hermione laugh but made Harry surrender.

"Alright, I'll do it," he sighed, "but I expect some sort of payment when we get back tonight."

He winked at Oliver, who blushed. Oliver took Harry's hand and walked him over to the stage. Fred and George greeted them with open arms.

"Harry! Oliver! Hi! What can we do for you?" Fred and George said unison.

"We're gonna have a go on the karaoke, apparently." Harry jibed, giving Oliver a sideways glance.

"Well then, tell us which song you'd like to sing. We've got quite a few wizarding and muggle songs that you can choose from."

"We already know what we're going to sing." Oliver stated.

"We do?"

"La La Love by Ivi Adamou."

"Alright, let's just get that set up for you. Take a seat and we'll bring you back up when it's to perform." George made a strange little hip motion as he said the word 'perform'.

Harry and Oliver walked back to the table where Hermione and Ron were sat. Ron had finished all but one slice of pizza now, and looked as though he was struggling. Harry had completely forgotten about his plate of food and began to eat it. Oliver did the same. Having finally given up, Ron dropped his last slice of pizza onto his plate.

"So what song are you two singing?" he asked Harry.

"La La Love by Ivi Adamou. At least he chose a song that I know." Harry added, chuckling.

"You know you love me, Harry." Oliver pecked him on the cheek.

"I love that song!" Hermione commented for the second time that night.

"Never heard of it." Ron said.

"That's because it's a muggle song, Ron." Hermione stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh! I've always wanted to hear muggle music."

'Do the Hippogriff' came to end, with many of the students on the dance floor returning to their seats. George stood at the front of the stage, holding a microphone.

"Alright, everyone! The star couple of the night," Harry and Oliver both blushed at this, "are going to be a doing a spot of karaoke for us. Singing 'La La Love' by Ivi Adamou, we give you Harry Potter and Oliver Wood!"

The students in the chairs and on the dance floor clapped as Harry and Oliver made their way up to the stage from their table, with Ron patting them on the back and Hermione cheering them on. Dumbledore clapped from behind the bar. Harry and Oliver stood on the stage as Fred handed them their microphones. They watched as the small TV sets flickered to life, with the lyrics to the song displayed on the screen. The song started almost immediately, with Oliver jumping in straight at the start.

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la love." Oliver sang, with the students in the club cheering.

Oliver wasn't the best singer in the world, but he definitely wasn't bad.

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la love." Harry joined.

Harry definitely wasn't a good singer, with a couple of students in the audience wincing as he hit a flat note, but cheering him on all the same.

"Love the way you fill me up with life." Oliver was facing Harry.

He wasn't just singing with Harry, he was singing _to_ him. Harry's heart fluttered as he realised this, and it spurned him on even more to sing back to Oliver.

"Baby we can break the speed of light." Harry returned.

"Nothing to fear when you are near."

"Just give me more."

The audience had noticed that they were singing to each other, with some of the girls in the audience sighing 'awwwww' as the two boys continued to sing. The others in the audience cheered louder.

"Reaching for the sky, I'm aiming high." Oliver continued to sing, his brilliant, hazel eyes glistening in the dim lights from the ceiling above. Breathtaking.

"Close my eyes and then it's almost like we fly."

"Up in the air, let's take it there."

"Never let go."

The song struck a chord with Harry and Oliver; they both experienced this when they were around one another. They knew that they were perfect for each other.

"Oh oh oh, I feel the energy between you and me, baby it's alright."

"Oh oh oh, I feel the energy just taking over me, over me."

It felt strange for Harry because the parts that he was singing seemed remarkably similar to his current situation. Oliver had chosen the song wisely.

"How I've been waiting for this."

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la love."

"Oh I've been waiting for this."

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la love."

"From Paris to LA over the night."

"All around the world just you and I."

"Nothing to fear, when you are near."

"We're on a roll."

"And we do it again, no stop no end."

"Out of control."

"Oh oh oh, I feel the energy between you and me, baby it's alright."

"Oh oh oh, I feel the energy just taking over me, over me."

"How I've been waiting for this."

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la love."

"Oh I've been waiting for this."

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la love."

"Nothing to fear… when you are near…"

"Oh oh oh, I feel the energy between you and me, baby it's alright."

"Oh oh oh, I feel the energy just taking over me, over me."

"How I've been waiting for this."

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la love."

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la love."

"Oh, I've been waiting for this."

"La-la la-la-la-la-la-la la-la-la-la-la-la-la love." Harry and Oliver sang the last line together.

As the song ended, the audience burst into rapturous applause, whistling and whooping as Harry and Oliver embraced, in public for the first time, right there on the stage. Tears filled Hermione's eyes as she watched them kiss - it was a sign of true love. As Harry and Oliver embraced on the stage, Ron shouted words of encouragement such as "Get in there!" and "Suck his face off, Harry!". However, Hermione wasn't best pleased with Ron's so-called "words of encouragement" and nudged him in the sides several times to get him to be quiet.

Harry broke the kiss with Oliver, but kept their faces close together.

"I love you." they whispered in unison.

They walked hand-in-hand off the stage, with both of them earning pats on the back from the students in the audience. Neither Oliver nor Harry knew who many of them were, but smiled and waved at them regardless. They sat back down at the table, with Dumbledore coming over to ask them what drinks they'd like.

"Just four butterbeers, please, Albus." Oliver said happily.

Things were definitely looking great for he and Harry; there was nothing that could stand in the way of them being together.

"You two were great up there." Hermione praised, "I could tell that you were singing to each other. It was so sweet to watch."

"Thanks, Hermione," said Oliver, "I picked the song so that I could sing to Harry."

"I could tell." Harry blushed.

Ron was sat staring at the pool table. He yearned to learn how to play the game, even if it would be the only night in his life when he would actually be able to play it.

"Come on, I'll teach you." Harry said to him, "It's simple enough to play."

Harry explained the rules to Ron, who seemed to grasp the concept of the game fairly quickly. After ten minutes of practicing shots into the pockets, Ron was beginning to show great promise as a player – he looked like he could at least provide a challenge for Hermione and Oliver, who had grown up with the game much like Harry had done, although Harry never really got a chance to play with other people, instead playing on his own with Dudley's old pool table when Mr and Mrs Dursley had taken Dudley out for the day.

"Let's have a game." Hermione suggested, "Me and Oliver against you and Ron. How about that, Harry?"

"That seems - thanks, Professor - fine." Dumbledore had brought their drinks over and put them on a table nearby.

Ron was the first to take a shot and made a clean break. Next was Hermione who managed to pot two of the red balls, before missing on her next shot. Harry took his turn and managed to pot three of the yellow balls. On his turn, Oliver managed to pot three of the red balls. When the game finally came back round to Ron, a small crowd had gathered around the group. The pool newbie surprised everybody with his considerable talent, having been able to pot the last of the yellow balls _and_ the black ball, winning the game for hm and Harry. Oliver was dumbfounded.

"How… how did you… no way…"

"I guess it's just beginner's luck!" Ron shouted happily as the gathered crowd applauded him.

It was getting fairly late now, the clock on the bar told them that the time was 10:30 p.m.

The group sat back down at their table, with the crowd dispersing and returning to what they were doing before they watched the surprisingly-short pool game. Hermione leaned over to Harry's ear.

"I saw what you were doing, Harry." she whispered, "You're a good friend. Ron needed that confidence boost."

Harry had been using his telekinetic abilities to guide the balls to the pockets. He knew that Ron would have made a good challenge for Oliver and Hermione but Harry thought that it would have made Ron's night if he was able to beat two veteran players in his first game. Harry leaned over into Oliver's ear and told him what he had done. Oliver understood completely and pecked Harry on the cheek.

"You really are a great friend, Harry." he whispered back

The whole group was beginning to grow tired now. They were just about to head out the door to go back up to the castle when Milia Swampstead stood in their way, much to Oliver's annoyance. First Hedgeforth, now Swampstead.

"Mr Wood, would you please care to join us? We've longed for someone to talk to." Swampstead spoke in a thick, Welsh accent. Her tightly pursed lips seemed to crack painfully as she formed each syllable with her mouth.

"Erm… we're kinda tired right now - we're just about to head back up to the castle, actually." Harry stated.

"I don't recall asking you, boy!" Milia spat.

"HEY!" Oliver shouted defensively, "Don't you fucking talk to him like that!"

Swampstead recoiled at Oliver's outburst, turned on her heels and strode out of the door with her nose high in the air.

"Fucking bitch. Talk to my boyfriend like that, will she? I don't fucking think so. It's no surprise she's the Slytherin coach." Oliver was clearly very angry.

"Is there a problem?" Dumbledore hurried over.

"Not at all, Professor." Hermione replied, "Please, go back to serving the other students."

Dumbledore walked off with a smile on his face. He loved it when he was around his students, and it made him even happier to see them all enjoying themselves - this _was_ the main reason he started WizenYouth, after all.

In the corner of the room sat Rynold Hedgeforth, the Hufflepuff coach, and Griselda Snortson, the Ravenclaw coach. Hedgeforth waved one of his long, gangly arms at Oliver again. This time, Oliver led the others over to the seats where they were sat.

"Good to see you, Mr Wood!" Hedgeforth beamed with delight, shaking Oliver's hand vigorously, "How's life been treating you?"

"Great, thanks." Oliver replied, "How about you?"

"I can't complain, although I do have an awful ache in my foot, and my elbow, and my stomach, and my…" he droned on and on.

Oliver and the others were becoming increasingly more bored as Hedgeforth whined about his many ailments, including boils on his back and a 'terrible rash' across the back of his neck, which Oliver couldn't even see. He was a complete hypochondriac. Next to Hedgeforth sat Griselda Snortson.

"Hi, Griselda." Oliver addressed her, causing her to flush a bright pink colour.

It wasn't a very nice sight, no matter which way you looked at it. Her already pig-like features had gotten that pink tinge that they so desperately needed in order to become the human equivalent of the farm animal.

"H-Hi, Oliver…" she squeaked. She even sounded like a pig, "Erm… er… how… how's your… your…" Griselda trailed off into silence.

"Oh, don't mind Griselda, Mr Wood. She just has a little bit of a crush on you is all." Hedgeforth teased.

They all started laughing, apart from Coach Snortson who stood up from the table and walked out of the bar, flushing an ever deeper shade of pink than she had been before. This left only Coach Hedgeforth on the seat. He sat talking with Oliver about different aspects of Oliver's life, ranging from how his muggle grandmother had raised him, to finding love in form of Harry Potter.

"Merlin's beard! I thought I recognised you!" Hedgeforth had only just realised that Harry Potter was in the same room as him. He shook his hand vigorously. "Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived, here in the very same room as me!"

Harry had grown incredibly tired of the same old greetings from people he hardly knew. He was sick of being famous. All he wanted was a normal, peaceful life. Oliver must have seen the glint of annoyance in Harry's eyes because he soon found himself being led out of the bar and onto the cold street outside, with Ron and Hermione following close behind. They had left with a simple "Nice seeing you. Goodbye." from Oliver. They said goodbye to Dumbledore on their way out, with the students on the dance floor waving goodbye to them as well.

"We'll come back when people won't make a fuss, I promise." Oliver kissed Harry.

It was completely dark outside now, with the glow of the moon shining down upon the castle and Hogsmeade, casting shadows of different sizes over the grounds and grass. The sky was a clear navy, with the sparkles of the stars reflecting beautifully off the many dark windows; it appeared as though the entire village had now fallen asleep, with the only sounds coming from WizenYouth behind them. Even The Three Broomsticks was quiet now, with the subtle flickering of a small candle visible through the curtains of what Harry assumed was Madam Rosmerta's bedroom. The group walked quietly back up to Gryffindor tower. They were all incredibly tired after the fun night that they'd had together. Just as they made their way through the doors to the entrance hall, Harry heard a rustling sound coming from the bushes nearby. He turned round to investigate the source of the sound, but there was nothing there. I must be hearing things, he thought. He shook the feeling off as he walked into the castle after Oliver, Ron and Hermione.

"Now, about that payment from you …" Harry flirted, "I think it's time you repaid your debt, don't you?"

Oliver smiled and charged at Harry, sending them both crashing onto the bed in a heap. The two of them started giggling like schoolgirls as Harry managed to wrestle with Oliver and pin him down into a tickle fight. The tickling stopped soon after, replaced by passionate kissing. They made quick work of their clothes and threw them to the floor. They carried on kissing. Oliver opened his legs to let Harry lay on top of him.

Harry positioned himself so that his hard cock was grinding directly against Oliver's own. He placed his lips onto Oliver's in a passionate embrace, cupping his hands around the back of the older boy's head and thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth, exploring territory that was no longer new to either of them. Yet it still held that sense of mystery and adventure that was there when they'd first kissed on the Quidditch pitch.

Harry began to move his hips in a slow rhythm, rubbing their throbbing cocks together. The sensations coursed through their bodies like fireworks, exciting them even further. The kiss deepened, making it all that more enchanting. Harry seemed to have finally achieved total control over his powers; everything in the room stayed in its place as they continued to frot, the pleasure growing more intense as they continued to grind their cocks together. Harry buried his face into Oliver's neck and nibbled slightly at the skin, gaining hisses of pleasure from the older boy. Their hands were roaming around each other's bodies, pressing into every crevice they could find, moans and gasps escaping from their mouths as they became lost in the moment. The whole event was incredibly enchanting, even more so than that very magic that ran through their veins. There was nothing in the world that could take the away from each other now. Closer and closer they came to climax, their moans growing louder with each thrust of Harry's hips, the friction between his and Oliver's cocks sending them almost hurtling over the edge. One final jerk from Harry sent them both spiralling into a whirl of intense pleasure and affection, shouting loudly into each other's mouth as they finally succumbed to the sensations. White, hot cum burst from their throbbing cocks and splattered up their muscled torsos, their abs and pecs becoming covered in the sticky goo.

They continued to kiss, screwing their eyes up as the pleasure thundered through their bodies. They were truly in love, Harry thought as he continued to lay on top of Oliver after the orgasm subsided. He gazed down into Oliver's entrancing, hazel eyes that glistened in the moonlight, his own emerald eyes gleaming brightly. He would lay there all night staring down into that beautiful face if he could but he was just too exhausted to do. His eyes began to droop as he sank into Oliver's toned chest.

"I love you." Oliver whispered to him.

"I love you, too." Harry replied, placing one final kiss on the older boy's chin.

He was soon asleep on top of Oliver, with his legs locked in between Oliver's own, on top of the bed sheets. The cool breeze blowing in through the windows had no effect on their sleep, for nothing could take them out of the dreams they had that night.

This was bliss.

This was Heaven.

This was Vinculum Duo.


	14. Dream Attack

**Chapter Fourteen – Dream Attack**

_He was here again. The Black Lake. Only this time Oliver wasn't with him._

_Harry was laid on the luscious grass and was gazing directly up into the light blue sky. Warm rays of sunshine beamed down upon Hogwarts and its grounds, the Black Lake sparkling as the light danced over its surface. The picnic was sat on the blanket next to Harry, the many fruits and foods looking as delicious and vibrant as they had done before. Harry longed for his precious Oliver to be there with him, and sighed in sorrow as he settled into the realisation that he would have to enjoy this picnic alone. He turned onto his side and began to pick through the different fruits, eventually choosing a strawberry and popping it into his mouth. It tasted divine with its beautiful juices exploding in his mouth as he bit down on it. After eating the strawberry he picked up another one and ate it, this time savouring the sweet taste. He'd always loved strawberries; when he was younger, if Aunt Petunia had planted strawberries Harry would wait for them to grow and then sneak out of his cupboard when the Dursleys weren't looking. He would creep out into the garden and pluck several strawberries from the plants that held them, and would then scurry back to his cupboard under the stairs. Nobody seemed to notice the missing strawberries, or even the leaves that Harry had sometimes inadvertently dragged in, which was a rather big surprise to him. The missing strawberries he could understand not being seen, but the leaves? And now that he thought about it, did the Dursleys even like strawberries?_

_Movement in the lake disturbed Harry's train of thought. He glanced over to the lake to see what it was that was moving. He gasped as he witnessed a thing of true beauty - a huge, grey whale jumped out of the murky depths of the Black Lake, sending massive splashes of water towards the shore. The wave was like a tsunami. It hurtled towards Harry, and sucked several fish up into its curve before splashing down on the grass where Harry was sat, scattering them. He didn't have time to react and was instead faced with the wall of water cascading down upon him. He coughed and spluttered as he inadvertently gulped down several mouthfuls of dirty water, spitting as much of it out as he could. Thankfully, the water didn't contain any creatures that might have been able to crawl down Harry's throat. He shuddered at the thought. He turned his attention back to the whale in the Black Lake._

_It was beautiful. The whale swam happily around the lake, dipping under the surface every now and then and springing back out, only to send more waves towards the shore. Harry had been prepared for this and chuckled to himself as he dodged out of the way of the oncoming waves. He soon realised that the whale was playing with him. It would move around the water, trying to trick Harry into jumping to one side, and then it would jump out from a different place and try to catch Harry in the resulting wave. It was unusual for Harry to make a connection like this with an animal, apart from Buckbeak and Fawkes. He continued to play with the whale for a considerable amount of time after that. Eventually he began to wonder how on earth the whale had actually ended up in the lake. Had it been bred there? Or had it been captured and transported to the lake? After a while, the whale appeared to have grown tired of their little game, and receded back into the blackness of the lake. Harry moaned slightly as the whale disappeared from sight; it had been a very entertaining experience for him and he was only just actually getting into it. He sat back down on the grass. Surprisingly, it had dried as quickly as it had became wet._

_No sooner had he sat down was he back to eating the strawberries. One by one they disappeared from the saucer until there were none left. Harry felt disappointed that he had no strawberries left, so he turned his attention to the raspberries on the saucer next to it. He had never tried a raspberry before because Petunia had only ever planted strawberries. He continued to wonder why as he popped a juicy one into his mouth. He didn't really reckon much to the furry outside of the raspberry but continued on to bite into it. It was incredibly tangy but made Harry want more. So he began eating them rather quickly, much to his own surprise. He had never been one to eat so feverishly._

_A gentle whispering seemed to emanate from behind him. He turned to see what the source of the sound was, but there was nothing there. He shook the feeling from his mind as he continued to eat the last of the raspberries. I wish I had more, he thought to himself._

_"Hi, Harry." _

_Whatever it was seemed to be giggling a high-pitched, childish laugh. This time Harry got up from the grass and began to follow the sound._

_"Hi, Harry."_

_The same voice seemed to be repeating itself, as though it was leading Harry towards it. The sound seemed to be coming from… the Forbidden Forest?_

_Harry walked right up to very edge of the Forbidden Forest and pressed an ear against one of the trees._

_"Hi, Harry." the tree whispered to him._

_It _was_ the Forbidden Forest! Harry stumbled backwards in shock; first the whale in Black Lake, and now the trees in the Forbidden Forest were starting to talk to him! I'm going crazy, he thought to himself. He walked away from the trees and settled back down next to the picnic. What the hell was going on? This wasn't the dream he'd had before, no matter how similar it might have seemed. If Oliver wasn't in this dream, he wanted to wake up and be somewhere that he could be with him. He shut his eyes and tried to concentrate on waking up. But nothing worked. He tried and tried, but still nothing._

_"Damn." he muttered to himself, having given up trying to wake himself. No, he'd just have to wait until his body woke him up naturally. He opened his eyes and started to take some more fruit from the picnic blanket._

_Harry caught of a glimpse of movement behind him out of the corner of his eye. He expected it to be some woodland creature with the inexplicable ability to talk, or some other strange talent such as tap-dancing or knitting. He shook the feeling off; he was having to do this quite often, and it worried him that he could possibly be losing his mind if he didn't get a reality check. Woodland creatures can't tap-dance, he chuckled to himself, or knit. There was more movement behind him, with the sound of a dry leaf crunching under foot. He whirled round, now definitely sure that there was something watching him. He got to his feet and started walking around, determined to uncover what it was that was making the sound. He searched in between several trees in the Forbidden Forest - nothing. He searched around the rocks on the shore of the lake - still nothing. He even walked up to the castle and searched around the circle of stone monuments - nothing yet again. It was all very frustrating for Harry. There was nobody else around, no students, no teachers, and definitely no animals. So what had made the noise?_

_Meanwhile, from the shadows, a black-cloaked figure watched on menacingly, it's deep red eyes glinting evilly as it stalked Harry. When Harry moved to the rocks, the figure moved closer to him, but managed to stay very well hidden behind a nearby rock. Harry could sense movement nearer to him, and it became increasingly unnerving as the minutes ticked by. He stood there awkwardly for several minutes, the light ripples of water from the lake lapping at his ankles. Starting to grow very worried that someone, or something, was stalking him, Harry began to run towards the castle. As he ran, he remembered that he was able to build a protective barrier around himself; there was no point in attacking since he had no idea what it was that was following him, if anything _was_ actually following him. Harry waved his hand in front of him, expecting a purple ball to surround him and then turn invisible, like it had done when he was training with Oliver in the Room of Requirement, yet the motion yielded no results; not even a slight wisp of air. He began to panic, how could he defend himself if he was attacked?_

_He reached the great wooden doors of the castle and pulled on the handle, shaking it vigorously as he tried to get inside. Nothing. He sighed in exasperation and turned to face the Black Lake. Then he saw it…_

_The crowds cheered as Oliver defended for what must have been the fiftieth time that match. Blazing sunshine beat down upon the Quidditch stadium and his fans and admirers shouted his name, eager to gain the star keeper's attention. Six blonde women were stood in the stands, topless, with one of each letter in Oliver's name painted across their chests and stomachs. They wiggled their breasts at him as though they were trying to seduce him away from the game and into bed with them. It was such a shame, Oliver thought, that he did not hold any sort of attraction to them, or women for that matter. He quickly glanced around to return to the game. He was soaring high in the air above the grass at Puddlemere United's stadium. The match had been going great, every attempt made by the Chudley Cannons' chasers to score had been thwarted by Oliver's impressive keeping skills. It had been this reason that Puddlemere United's manager had been so eager to take him off the reserve team and put him into the regular one, replacing the old keeper, who had been delegated to the reserve position, much to his annoyance. "Just a fucking newbie!", he had shouted before being warned by the manager that he could be removed from team entirely if here didn't watch his mouth._

_Oliver was perched on his broom and watching the game unfold. The quaffle was being thrown from chaser to chaser, the teams in possession of the big red ball occasionally changing. Many times had the Chudley Cannons' chasers made it to the other end of the pitch, coming face-to-face with Oliver. But the keeper was too fast for them, and dived towards the quaffle each time, sending the ball flying towards one of Puddlemere United's chasers, each time gaining louder cheers from the crowd. He looked around to see where the seeker was as the quaffle headed back up the pitch with Puddlemere United's chasers. The scoreboard to the middle of one side of the pitch told the scores:_

_Puddlemere United - 780, Chudley Cannons - 350_

_The Chudley Cannons were losing by a dismal four hundred and thirty points. Even though they were clearly going to lose the match, they struggled valiantly to bring the scores even, no matter how impossible it seemed._

_"That's strange", Oliver muttered to himself, "Where's my seeker?"_

_'My' being the key word here, Oliver began to panic. Where was his seeker, his 'Little Snitch' as he liked to call him? He had always been the star player in this dream. He'd been having it since he arrived back at Hogwarts and met Harry again, and this was the first time that that wonderful boy, that handsome, caring, lovable, shaggable boy, had been absent from it. Oliver became frantic with worry. His head spun round in all directions to make sure that Harry wasn't high above him and trying to catch the snitch. He began to shout to his teammates._

_"Where's Harry? Where's my gorgeous boy? WHERE'S MY LITTLE SNITCH?!"_

_None of them turned. They merely flew around the pitch like normal, as if they hadn't even heard him. He began to shout even louder now._

_"WHERE THE FUCK'S MY LITTLE SNITCH?!" he bellowed_

Still_ no reaction. Bringing himself down flat onto his broom, he zipped away from the posts and began to circle the pitch, looking for any signs of Harry. He would have given anything to see just a small glimpse of his familiar wild, black hair, or his shockingly-bright emerald eyes glinting behind his glasses as he looked for the snitch. But Oliver could see nothing. His heart began to thunder in his chest as he began to panic even more than before. His dream was soon turning into a nightmare; Harry would always be in the dream, and would catch the snitch exceptionally fast, then afterwards Oliver would sweep Harry into the showers and banish everybody else from it, leaving Harry and he to do whatever they pleased, and that normally involved _everything_ that they could think of. Here in his dream, Oliver could be free to be with Harry whenever he wanted. Although there was little use of this dream now that the keeper had finally gotten his hands on the seeker, it still helped soothe Oliver when he was asleep by still allowing him to experience loving Harry more. It had been a very private thing for Oliver to call Harry his 'Little Snitch'. Not even Harry knew that Oliver had called him it. _Not even_ Harry knew that Oliver cared about him so much that he'd given him a cute nickname. The sunlight continued to beam down brightly, the warm rays tingling the back of Oliver's tanned neck. It seemed cruel; Oliver was breaking down so easily now, yet the sun seemed to be taunting him with its radiant glow and effervescent atmosphere. Even the birds continued to sing despite Oliver's sorrow. This was extremely unusual for Oliver. His dreams usually followed the mood that he was in, so either his dream was no longer listening to him, or he had somehow detached from the dream. It was all so confusing; how could the dream possibly go as smoothly like it had done all those times before, only this time without Oliver at the reigns? It shouldn't have been possible. Right now, it should have been raining, and the birds in the air should have been fleeing from the rain in flocks. And what Oliver saw next only proved that he, himself, was no longer a part of the dream. He was merely a bystander now, stuck in between two different dreams._

_Oliver shook his head in disbelief; an enormous, oval-shaped hole had appeared above the pitch. The players and fans below continued to act as they normally did whenever he had this dream. A voice called to him from above. Gazing up towards the sky, Oliver's stomach lurched as he witnessed the scene that the hole revealed…_

_Harry tried to shout out, but all that escaped him was a pathetic whimper. A black-cloaked figure was stalking its way up the lawns, ferocious intent glinting in its evil, blood-red eyes. All that was visible of his face was a smile; a terrifying smile, one that had the power to freeze every drop of blood in a person's body. Harry eventually managed to find the power to shout to the prowler._

_"W-what do you want?" he stammered._

_The figure remained silent and continued to prowl towards Harry, conjuring bright blue flames. The fire licked outwards from its long, skeletal fingers. Despite the large difference between them, Harry could feel the heat from the flames creeping up his body. He heaved at the handle on the door with all his might, but still nothing happened. His heart was beginning to pound against the entrapment of his ribcage. Such terror had he never experienced before. Maybe he'd be able to perform simple spells, he thought to himself. Grasping the handle, Harry muttered, 'Alohomora', but with no effect. Why weren't his powers working? He eventually decided that if he was going to survive in this dream, he'd best fight fire with fire, literally._

_Harry closed his eyes and tried to summon the power he had grown used to utilising. He felt the warm rush in his body._

_"Got it!" his mind screamed._

_He opened his eyes to glance down at his hands, expecting fire to be there. Nothing. Now he began to truly panic. The sky was quickly turning a dark shade of grey, with distant grumbles of thunder growing louder by the second. A storm was coming, and this figure in front of him was almost certainly its eye. Before he knew it, rain drops the size of bullets were pelting from the sky, some with such power that they chipped the windows of Hogwarts. The thunder was growing louder, with raucous booms echoing around the grounds very frequently. Forks of lightning struck at the trees which suddenly sprang to life and began to run from the Forest, wailing in pain as the fire spread up their trunks and across their branches. It was anarchy. Drops of rain flecked Harry's glasses and obscured his view. All he could see was the outline of the figure growing closer to him, and the red glow from its eyes seemed to be growing brighter, as though the chaos around it gave it strength. It lifted its flaming hands high into the air and brought them down in a long sweep. Two columns of bright blue fire erupted from the ground, cracking the earth and sending shudders past Harry and through the whole castle. The flames bolted across the ground to where Harry was standing. He dived out of the way as the fire engulfed the door of the castle, turning into ash in no less than a second._

_Harry tried to run through the open doorway but was suddenly hauled backwards by what felt eerily like an invisible hand. He landed with a groan and a squelch at the figure's feet. Before he knew it, an invisible force was dragging him up from the ground and had slammed him into the wall of the castle above the door. Something began to constrict around his neck; he couldn't breathe. Harry struggled against the power holding up against the castle but it was no use. Stars began to pop out in front of his eyes as the darkness began to take hold. It had all happened so fast. His dream had gone from being a beautiful safe haven, to a decimated and dangerous ruin._

_"Oliver, where are you? Help me!" Harry cried._

_In amongst the growing darkness, a bright oval shape appeared to the left of Hogwarts castle. It filled the miserable sky with a joyful light. The figure glanced towards it, inadvertently loosening its grip on Harry, allowing him to regain enough of his composure to break out of the hold. He fell to the floor with a thud, his ankle cracking as he did so. Broken. Harry ignored splintering pain in his ankle to stare into the hole next to the castle. There was a Quidditch pitch, with two teams, the Chudley Cannons and Puddlemere United, playing what seemed to be a championship game. There was someone on his broom flying haphazardly around the pitch. Harry instantly recognised him._

_"OLIVER!" he screamed._

_Oliver looked upwards to see Harry in excruciating pain; the younger boy's ankle struck out at an odd angle. And then Oliver saw the hooded figure stooping low over Harry, pointing what looked like a finger at his head. Instinctively, he bolted forward on his broom, intending to knock directly into the figure to stop him from hurting Harry any more._

_Tears streaked down Harry's face as Oliver soared through the vortex, his Puddlemere United robes billowing out behind, anger flaring in the keeper's eyes. No sooner had Oliver zoomed through the vortex it closed, leaving the other twelve players and the fans behind. That was one match that he was willing to forfeit if it meant saving Harry._

_For the first time, the cloaked figure spoke. In a vicious, growling voice, it began to shout the spell that Harry most dreaded._

_"AVADA-"_

_It was interrupted by Oliver, who pelted into it and sent it flying backwards. It landed in a heap next to the Black Lake and didn't seem to move. But Oliver wasn't done yet. He swooped down on his broom and grasped the ruffled cloak, pulling the figure over the lake with him. The figure didn't seem to fight back; it must have been unconscious, Oliver thought. Soaring high above the Black Lake, Oliver let go on the figure's unconscious form. It hurtled down towards the murky depths of the lake, the black cloak flapping behind as the air rushed upwards. It hit the surface of the lake with a huge splash. Almost instantly, the figure seemed to disappear. Where had it gone? Oliver flew back over to Harry and landed with a dull thud. He ran over to his Little Snitch._

_"Little Snitch, baby, are you alright?" he fretted as he supported Harry's head._

_"I-I'm fine…" Harry sighed, "But I need to wake up and get the hell out of this dream."_

_No sooner had the words left his mouth, he began to fade away from the dream world. Oliver followed him, glad that Harry was safely back in the real world…_


	15. Morning Glory

**Chapter Fifteen – Morning Glory**

Harry woke with a start, cold sweat dripping from his face. He started shouting wildly for Oliver to wake up. The older boy jumped up in bed, sending Harry crashing to the floor. Harry screamed in pain. He glanced down at his ankle. Broken. _Broken?!_

Oliver was quickly awake and scrambled around on the bed as he tried to orientate himself to the screams and shouts coming from Harry. Eventually, he regained his composure and joined Harry on the floor. He grabbed Harry's shoulders and shook him, trying to bring him back round. The younger boy quickly stopped wailing like a banshee, instead gazing into Oliver's glistening chestnut eyes. They shone brightly in the moonlight. As Oliver gazed back into Harry's emerald eyes, he noticed that Harry was crying. He pulled Harry into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around his back, letting the younger boy rest his head on his chest. Harry sniffled into Oliver's warm taut torso, snuggling deeply into his boyfriend. At that moment Ron and Hermione burst into the room, tiredness visible on their faces, their eyes no more than mere slits in the moonlight. They didn't seem to care that both boys were naked. Harry continued to sob and sniffle into Oliver's body. Oliver lifted a finger to his lips to tell them to be quiet as he used his other hand to stroke gentle lines down Harry's quivering back. He was freezing. Oliver grabbed his wand from the floor muttered a quick warming charm. Soon, Harry's shivering had ceased, but he continued to tremble in Oliver's arms. Oliver felt helpless as his boyfriend shuddered in his embrace, wondering how he could help him. He could feel Harry's hot tears leaking onto his body. It was destroying Oliver inside to see him in such a state. His heart yearned to hold Harry even tighter, to cradle him in his arms all night, if that's what it would take to make him feel better. He was determined to help his Little Snitch, no matter what. And to make matters worse, Harry's ankle was broken.

Harry managed to stop sobbing long enough to be able to talk. He lifted his face from Oliver's tear-streaked chest. He looked at Oliver's beautiful, chiselled face through misty emerald eyes. He was completely unaware that Ron and Hermione were stood in the room with them. Hedwig rattled around in her cage furiously; she needed to be let out, Harry thought. He moved his lips over to Oliver's and kissed him deeply. Ron shuffled uncomfortably in his place, while Hermione surveyed the scene. The bed was a mess, with the bed sheets strewn across the mattress in a haphazard manner, there were strange white streaks up Oliver's stomach (Hermione had a pretty good idea about what _that_ was, blushing at the thought of Harry and Oliver getting intimate), and Harry's ankle was striking out at an odd angle. Eventually, Harry and Oliver broke the kiss. Oliver nodded towards Ron and Hermione. Harry turned round and blushed a deep fuchsia as he realised that his best friends were stood in the room whilst he was sat on the floor and snuggling into Oliver. He was about to open his mouth and say something of an apology for his and Oliver's nakedness but was cut short by Hermione's beginning interrogation. She flooded the room with questions, an endless spew of incomprehensible babbling as she tried to ask all the torrents of questions that her overflowing mind could think of in one rapid moment.

"What happened? We heard screaming. Did you have a dream? Why's your ankle - actually, _how's_ your ankle broken? You _can't_ be cold, it's boiling in here! How did your bed-"

"_Hermione!_" Oliver shouted, exasperated at the never-ending stream of questions, "Give it a rest, please! Can't you see that Harry's just had a bad dream? Look at him, he's terrified. He started shouting and screaming when he woke. I jumped up in bed when he woke me up and knocked him to the floor by accident, and that must be how he's broke his ankle. Just… stop asking so many questions! And what does it matter whether it's warm or not?"

Hermione looked dejected, her lower lip trembling as though she was about to cry. She stormed out of the room and into her and Ron's bedroom, slamming the door shut as she went. Ron was left stood in the room with Harry and Oliver.

Harry turned his head away from Oliver's chest to speak to Ron.

"Ron, I think you should go after her," he suggested, "but before you do, can you pass us some clothes? I need to take a trip to the hospital wing."

Ron picked up the pile of clothes and tossed them over to Harry. He eagerly tried to avoid looking at the boys' limp members as he gave them to Harry.

"Right… well… erm… I'd best be off… then…" he muttered and scurried out of the room, leaving the other two boys to get dressed.

Hedwig continued to rattle around in her cage and screeched at the height of her lungs with a shrill echo around the room. According to the clock on the wall, the time was only 4:13 a.m. No wonder Ron and Hermione looked exhausted, Harry thought.

"Can you stand up?" Oliver asked as he helped Harry put his clothes on, accidentally brushing a finger over Harry's cock as he did so. Oliver was still naked. The younger boy quivered at the touch.

"Mmm…" Harry gasped sleepily, "I don't know if I want to go to the hospital wing anymore. Not when I've got my amazing boyfriend here with me."

"You have to." Oliver replied sternly, "With a broken ankle like that, I'm not letting you go anywhere without some form of medical treatment. Harry, the bone sticks out of the side, for Merlin's sake."

"Relax, Oliver. I know a spell that can fix my ankle. Watch."

Harry leaned forward and placed a cold, trembling hand on his ballooned ankle.

"_Episkey!_" he muttered.

A warm glow of blue light emanated from beneath Harry's palm and illuminated the room, casting dark shadows on the walls where the furniture was and shone out through the windows of Gryffindor Tower. The gentle warmth of the glow raised goosebumps along the length of Oliver's arms and legs. Harry sighed in relief as a hot tingling sensation rippled through his body. A small _crack_ later and Harry's ankle was back in its original position, with Harry able to move it around freely without so much as a sting.

"Does it hurt?" Oliver asked worriedly.

"Ollie, I'm fine." Harry was beginning to wake up fully now.

The world outside the window was starting to radiate a healthy pink glow across the grounds and up the walls of Hogwarts. A heart-warming rosy tinge crept over the trees of the Forbidden Forest. It was a breathtaking spectacle, and one that made Harry's heart flutter as the pink light danced over Oliver's tantalisingly-tempting features, his bright hazel eyes glittering as dawn began to settle over the castle. Harry pulled his boxers back down his legs and took them off his feet. He stood up on his tiptoes and pressed his forehead to Oliver's, gazing deeply into the taller boy's crystalline eyes. The mere contact of their foreheads was enough to turn Harry on.

"I love you so much, Oliver. Everyone's most likely still asleep, and look at that light outside. It's so romantic…"

"I see what you're getting at." Oliver smirked.

He grabbed Harry by his arse cheeks and hoisted him into the air, pressing his lips against Harry's as he did so. Oliver was rewarded with a small moan from Harry as the younger boy wrapped his legs around Oliver's waist. Their hardening cocks began to rub together as Harry levitated there with his legs locked securely around Oliver, grinding his hips slowly, yet firmly. The kiss deepened as Harry opened his mouth to allow Oliver greater freedom. The older boy's tongue darted around Harry's mouth, claiming every inch of him that he could find. Harry brought his tongue up to battle with Oliver's, with Harry's eventually claiming dominion.

Oliver turned round and placed Harry down on the bed, laying on top of him as he did so. Harry's legs remained locked around Oliver's waist as he began to rub their cocks together a little harder and faster. The sensations became slightly more intense as the frottage continued, with the two boys moaning louder and louder into each other's mouth.

Oliver broke away from the kiss and unlocked Harry's legs, much to Harry's dismay.

"Awwww! Why'd you do that?" he moaned.

Oliver didn't reply. He started sucking on the skin at the base of Harry's neck, nibbling slightly at his collarbone. Harry gasped as he enjoyed the feelings that were coursing through his body; Oliver knew it drove him crazy every time he kissed him on his neck. Harry's hands were roaming around Oliver's muscular back and dug his fingernails into each crevice he could find. Oliver had to break away from Harry's neck to gasp at the sensations. Harry knew that this always drove Oliver crazy. Oliver returned to stimulating Harry's neck, flicking every inch of skin with tongue. He began to move slowly down Harry's body, stopping over his nipples. He circled them with his tongue and sucked ever-so-gently, gaining loud groans from the younger boy.

"Ngh… Oliver… move further down…" Harry pleaded.

"Patience, Harry." Oliver teased as he slowly licked his way down to Harry's naval.

He flicked his tongue around the edge of Harry's belly button. He had never tried stimulating Harry in this way, so he wasn't sure how Harry would react. He knew that he'd hit a sensitive spot when he heard Harry moan in short, raspy breaths. He plunged his tongue into Harry's naval, gaining yet another short, loud yelp from the younger boy.

"Oliver… please…" Harry panted, "I want… more…"

Oliver submitted under Harry's pleading emerald eyes. That look of sheer desperation, mixed with Oliver's pure love for Harry, forced him to surrender. He started to make his way down to Harry's groin, licking and flicking with his tongue as he did so. He started to nibble at the base of Harry's shaft, the younger boy's hard cock tapping against his face as he did so. He licked up the entire length of Harry's shaft like a lollipop. The head of Harry's cock leaked small beads of clear fluid. Oliver used his tongue to flick at Harry's slit, earning a considerably loud groan from the boy, with each moan becoming louder as he swirled his tongue around beneath Harry's reddening foreskin.

Oliver claimed his prize in one swoop. Harry moaned loudly as Oliver began to lick at the sensitive underside of his painfully-hard cock. He continued to moan as he felt Oliver squeezing his cheeks tightly around his length as the older boy bobbed up and down on his cock.

"Ngh… y-yeah… Ollie…"

After a few minutes Harry felt as though he was going to explode in Oliver's mouth. Oliver must have sensed Harry tensing up as he edged nearer to orgasm. He slipped off the end of Harry's cock with an audible _pop_.

He laid back on top of Harry, his dry cock touching his wet cock, and reclaimed Harry's lips in an enchanting kiss. After several minutes of intense kissing, Oliver laid on his back and opened his legs to allow Harry access to his entire body.

Harry began the same ritual that Oliver had performed on him just minutes prior; his tongue danced over the skin on Oliver's neck, his teeth scraping the surface of Oliver's collarbone, and licked and flicked his way down over the older boy's incredibly-toned pecs and abs, eventually reaching the subtle dusting of hair above Oliver's throbbing cock, and began to gently suck at the base of Oliver's shaft. He crept up to the head of Oliver's cock and swallowed it, the entire length sinking right to the back of his throat. He suppressed his gag reflex as he began to hum gently. Oliver shouted loudly as the vibrations rumbled through his hard piece of flesh and thundered through his system. It almost became too much for him to bear so he pulled away from Harry's mouth before he came. They returned to kissing to allow each other to calm down.

After several minutes they laid down on the bed in the sixty nine position. They both began to make quick work of each other's pulsating cocks, with Harry sucking Oliver in a slow, gracious movement, and Oliver sucking Harry in a brisk bobbing action, wrapping his hand around the younger boy's shaft and rubbing in time with his sucking. They began to moan louder and louder as they got closer to orgasm, continuing to suck each other off. Eventually, they came with an almighty groan, still clinging onto each other's cock with their lips clamped shut, taking every drop of cum out of their cocks as they could, and squeezing their eyes tightly as the sensations thundered through their very being. The orgasm eventually subsided, but Oliver and Harry continued to suck each other and clean the remaining cum off their softening cocks. After another few minutes, they stopped sucking and laid side-by-side on the bed.

The light outside was quickly changing from a rosy pink to a daffodil yellow and shone brightly through the thin window panes, the glass intensifying the heat from the end-of-summer rays of sunshine. The comforting sunlight beamed down upon Harry and Oliver's bodies and gave them a gentle warmth.

"I'm not done with you yet, Harry." Oliver smiled cheekily as he climbed in between Harry's legs.

"What are you gonna do to me?"

"Something… new."

Oliver began flicking and licking at every bit of Harry's skin, nibbling gently every now-and-then. Harry resumed gasping and moaning with short, raspy breaths as his boyfriend made his way back down his toned pecs and abs, eventually dipping below his waistline. But Oliver didn't stop at Harry's newly-hard cock. Further and further down he went, past Harry's scrotum and onto the sensitive skin in between his legs. Oliver curled his tongue and lapped around the skin there. This took Harry by surprise, and soon he found himself groaning, and grasping onto the bed sheets as Oliver continued to stimulate the skin around his tight hole. But Oliver was only just getting started. He brushed his tongue over Harry's entrance in a swift movement that caused Harry to yelp out in even greater pleasure. His cock continued to grow even harder. Harry's breathing was uneven, and full of insurmountable pleasure.

Oliver realised that he had his own erection to care of and began to stroke it gently as he caressed Harry's oh-so-sensitive hole with his tongue, plunging it inside him every so often and gaining small yelps and whimpers from the younger boy. Several minutes this went for, with Oliver starting to feel the subtle knot it his scrotum as he grew closer to his own orgasm. He stopped stroking his cock to allow himself to calm down, pulling away from Harry's hole as he did so. Harry whimpered at the lack of contact. Oliver grabbed his wand and pointed it at his throbbing cock. Just as he was about to mutter a lubrication spell, Harry interrupted him.

"Ah-ah-ah!" he teased as he waggled a finger at Oliver, "I want to give you the ride of your life."

Harry waved his hand to one side and sent Oliver's wand flying to the floor. He muttered a lubrication charm of his own and spread it across his fingers.

"Come here."

Oliver climbed back on top of Harry and straddled his chest, his hard cock tapping gently against Harry's lips. The light touches sent subtle ripples of pleasure running through Oliver's body. Harry slid one finger in the crack of Oliver's arse cheeks and pressed gently at his boyfriend's tight hole. They had had plenty of experience at this type of sex now that they had been going out for little over a month so it wouldn't take much to get Oliver thoroughly prepared and ready to take the entirety of Harry's length. The tip of Harry's finger eased inside Oliver's entrance, which tightened instinctively around the digit. In no time at all, the muscles had relaxed and Harry was able to move in further until the muscles clamped down once again. Oliver moaned as Harry's finger moved deeper inside him, eventually yelping excitedly as the tip brushed against his prostate. Harry took this as a sign of Oliver readying himself. He slid another finger into Oliver's entrance and joined it up with the other. Oliver shouted out as the second finger stretched the inside of his arse and pressed hard against his prostate. His swollen cock wobbled up and down as he shifted on top of Harry's nimble fingers. Harry started to make a scissor motion with his fingers inside in order to loosen the rest of Oliver's muscles. Eventually, he was relaxed enough to be able to fit Harry's length inside him. The main event was about to begin.

Muttering another lubrication charm, Harry applied a thick layer to Oliver's entrance to make him as slippery as possible in order to reduce any friction, and pain, that might occur. He then used the same charm and applied lubricant to his painfully-hard length. Harry placed his hands on Oliver's hips after cleaning the remaining lubricant off and guided the older boy to his cock, the head of it pressing against Oliver's puckered hole. Oliver took over from there, pushing down gently on Harry's cock until the head and foreskin slipped inside with considerable ease. Oliver gasped as the head of Harry's cock filled his empty arse, and pushed down a little bit further to take part of his shaft inside. The head of Harry's dick pressed hard against Oliver's prostate as the last few inches slid inside. Oliver groaned as the intense sensations began their journey through his body.

"Harry… baby… I love you so much…" Oliver panted.

"I love you too, Ollie." Harry replied, "Ngh… move…"

Oliver nodded and moved up Harry's cock slowly and smoothly. He hissed slightly as the familiar burning sensation appeared in his lower gut. He pushed back down onto Harry's cock, with the burning and stinging subsiding slightly. He could feel Harry's dick throbbing and pulsating inside him as he began to move up and down the shaft, the head of his boyfriend's cock pushing hard against his prostate with each movement. He could no longer suppress his moans and wailed like a banshee as the pleasure began to overwhelm his body.

Harry's hands roamed around Oliver's waist and up his back and chest, kneading every muscle he could find. He cupped the cheeks of Oliver's arse and dug his fingers into the crack, feeling his meat slipping seamlessly in and out of Oliver's hole. It felt strange being able to feel his cock moving in and out of Oliver but it only added to the sensations that were already thundering through his body.

"Ngh… Oliver… it feels so good…" he groaned.

Oliver couldn't say anything; his face was screwed up under the paralysing bolts of pleasure that were electrifying his entire system. Despite his paralysation, he was able to communicate with Harry through animalistic growls and grunts.

"_Fuck! Merlin, Harry! GAH! IT FEELS SO FUCKING GOOD!_"

Oliver continued to holler and scream like a banshee as the massive waves of pleasure engulfed his entire being. He had never felt so alive in all his life, not when he played Quidditch, and not even after all the times that he and Harry had made love. This was passion at its rawest, and it was incredible. Oliver never wanted it to end, not when it had the potential to connect he and Harry and a way that nobody else could. The glimmer in Harry's emerald eyes, along with the sparkle in Oliver's hazel eyes, merged their very souls into one and unified them during the glorious moment ahead. With one final, humongous wave of overwhelming pleasure, Harry and Oliver plummeted over the edge in a whirl of countless numbers of thick streams of pearl-white cum and a cacophony of wails and screams. Oliver's arse cheeks clamped incredibly tightly around the entirety of Harry's length and squeezed every last drop of cum out of the shaft as possible.

Never before had either of them been in such a state, with their muscles twitching and convulsing as their bodies finally gave in to exhaustion. With a loud grunt, Oliver collapsed onto the bed beside Harry. They were both completely spent; Harry wondered to himself how in the world he was going to be able to play Quidditch today in Gryffindor's first match of the season, against Hufflepuff. He turned over to look at Oliver's incredibly-defined features. There was something about him, splattered with cum, that made Harry's heart flutter, like a leaf in a gentle summer breeze. What a breathtaking sight it was, every time that they made love, to see each other as nature intended them, evidence of love and passion covering their bodies.

The clock on the wall now read 06:30 a.m.

Pretty soon, the whole school would be awake and heading down to the Great Hall for breakfast, and then out to the Quidditch pitch for the match at 9:00 a.m.

That left Harry and Oliver with two and a half hours to get ready for the match. But, for the first time in their lives, they were both willing to lose a bit of time in order to get some sleep. They were both incredibly exhausted and it would do Harry no good for him to be sleep on his broom; he just wouldn't be able to catch the Snitch in a state like that.

Instead, Oliver and Harry assumed the spooning position like they always did after they had made love, with Oliver resting his weary head into Harry's firm back. The smell of sex lingered in the air and fogged their senses as they drifted back off into a peaceful sleep.

They might not have known it but, as they once again visited the realm of peace and tranquillity, something was about to strike that could shake the students of Hogwarts down to their very souls. For something was lurking in the shadows, waiting to attack at any chance it was given.


	16. Snortson's Episode

**Chapter Sixteen – Snortson's Episode**

"Are you two _still_ in bed? Wake up! Quidditch today!"

The sound of Ron's voice booming through Gryffindor Tower was enough to jolt Harry and Oliver from their comfortable sleep. Harry sprang up from the bed, flopped sideways in the sudden motion and crashed down onto the floor in a heap, all while Ron stood at the doorway, keeled over with laughter. The redhead didn't seem to care that Harry and Oliver were naked and still covered in cum from their escapade only an hour previously.

07:30 a.m.

Harry sighed in exasperation as he dragged himself up from the floor and hurried around his room trying to gather a clean set of clothes. Hedwig had also been startled from her sleep and, as always, was rattling and screeching in her cage.

"Hedwig, shush!" Harry shouted, "You'll wake everyone up!"

"Everyone already _is_ up, mate." Ron said, "You and Oliver are the last two in bed. Now, hurry up! You've got an hour and a half to have breakfast and then get ready for the match! _Come on_!"

Oliver was still getting used to the blazing sunshine that was gleaming through the windows. He rubbed his weary eyes as he became reacquainted with his blurry surroundings. Yawning loudly and stretching, he pulled himself groggily from the bed and began to slip his clothes on in a lethargic manner. He was simply too tired to move quickly, which was a stark contrast to Harry who was zipping around his room and tearing socks, underwear, shirts and trousers out of his wardrobe and dropping them on his bed. Harry retrieved his gold-and-red Quidditch robes from the back of the wardrobe and threw them to Ron, who contested this.

"I'm not your house elf, Harry."

"Ron, just hold them for me while I get dressed." Harry said as he pulled his boxer shorts and socks on, "That's all I'm asking of you."

"Fine." Ron sighed.

A few minutes later, Oliver and Harry were fully-dressed and were running down to the Great Hall to get a little bit of breakfast before the big match. The sound of happy chatter emanated from the Great Hall, the clattering of plates and cutlery ringing throughout the entrance hall.

They stopped in their tracks as their blood suddenly turned cold.

A shrill, blood-curdling scream pierced the air, almost deafening the two boys with the intensity of it. They stood and stared at each other and, with nobody else in sight, they pelted out of the entrance hall, up the Grand Staircase and towards the source of the sound, which seemed to be coming from far up on one of the higher floors of the castle. As they dashed through the castle, turning and twisting around the labyrinth of corridors, they could hear Peeves bellowing in the distance about something that they couldn't quite hear until they reached the landing onto the third floor corridor.

"_MURDER! MURDER ON THE THIRD FLOOR!_ _INVISIBLE KILLER! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!_" he screeched at the height of lungs as he came careening round the bend of the corridor and soared above Harry and Oliver's heads.

In no time at all, Harry and Oliver could hear the loud banging and clattering as the students and teachers swarmed up from the Great Hall to see what the commotion was about. They headed in the direction that Peeves that had just came from, stopping and standing against the wall and peering their heads around the corner so as to be able to see what was going on without drawing attention to themselves. The last thing they needed was a killer chasing after them, especially after the dreams that they'd had the night before. Neither of them knew about the other's dream, and both of them were worried about how the other might react if they told them what had happened.

A sickly gurgling noise was coming from the other end of the corridor. Peering round the bend in the corridor, Harry and Oliver recoiled in horror. Coach Snortson was suspended high in the air, rivulets of foam dribbling out of her mouth and down past her triple-layered chin. Her eyes were wide with shock, yet held a misty glaze as she stared at the wall directly opposite. Before Harry could work out what was happening, she was flopping up and down in the air, her loose arms flailing wildly as her stout body was swung around the corridor. Several times her head hit onto the cold hard concrete of the walls, leaving thin streaks of crimson blood behind. She gave one final sickening scream and crashed onto the floor of the Charms corridor with a _crunch_. Harry approached her with caution, hoping against hope that she was still alive.

He suddenly jumped backwards, almost crashing into Oliver as he did so.

"What's going-"

Harry's eyes opened widely as he gazed down upon Coach Snortson's unconscious form. She was lying face-down, with her frilly pink dress ruffled at her ankles. It was bizarre how the dress seemingly made her look even more like a pig than she had before this bizarre incident. But Harry knew that this wasn't the most appropriate time to be thinking about such things.

The clattering of footsteps and the frantic chattering of the students and staff brought Harry back to his senses. He and Oliver ran towards the sound, intent on alerting the teachers. But as they reached the landing of the third floor, Professors Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape strode into the corridor, with a throng of students following quickly behind.

"Get _back_!" Snape spat at them as they trod on his billowing black robes.

The three professors stood dead in their tracks as Harry and Oliver stood in front of them, with Coach Snortson unconscious on the floor of the cold corridor. Harry and Oliver stumbled over themselves to explain how and why they were there.

"We heard screaming-"

"So we came running-"

"Peeves was shouting-"

"We took a look-"

"She was floating, sir-"

"Then she started flopping around-"

"Severus, take a look at her, will you? I can only hope that she isn't, well… I can't say it in front of the students."

Snape paced over towards Snortson's limp body and checked her wrist for a pulse.

"She's still alive, Headmaster. Her pulse is only weak, but it's definitely there."

"That's good news, Severus. Minerva, take Griselda up to the hospital wing and have Madame Pomfrey contact St. Mungo's. I think that this is something that will require greater medical attention than-"

"I'm already here, Albus." Poppy Pomfrey announced as she jostled her way through the throng of students who were stood watching eagerly as the scene unfolded, "I heard Peeves screaming about murder on the third floor so I came down as soon as I could."

Many of the students gasped.

"There has been no act of murder, Poppy." Dumbledore stated, "That was most likely one of Peeves' many practical jokes. Take a look for yourself."

Madame Pomfrey walked over to Coach Snortson's body and checked for her pulse, concluding for herself that she was in fact still alive. She proceeded to check the rest of the body, from the feet up to the head. She levitated the Ravenclaw coach into the air and began to inspect the front. There were no signs of physical damage. Madame Pomfrey rotated Coach Snortson in the air and conjured a hospital trolley. She placed the unconscious body on to the rough white sheets. After closer inspection, Madame Pomfrey noticed the small trails of dry foam that had accumulated on Coach Snortson's cheek. She quickly pointed this out to Dumbledore.

"Headmaster, it does not appear as though she has been attacked. Her pupils," Poppy lifted the coach's eyelids, "react fine to light. It appears as though she merely had a seizure, which is something that I can remedy in a matter of hours. There is a superficial wound on her head but that was most probably caused when she collapsed. I'll take her up to the hospital wing now and she should be out by tonight. There will be no need for the healers of St. Mungo's."

"Yes, thank you, Poppy." Dumbledore nodded his head and turned to face Harry and Oliver, "Are you sure you saw her being swung around in the air? There is nothing to suggest this. Are you sure it wasn't simply one of the other poltergeists here? Remember, there are many more than simply Peeves, and most of them can be a lot more violent than him. One of them might have grabbed poor Coach Snortson and began to swing her round. It is entirely possible that the fast swinging motions caused her to have a seizure. That reminds me, I need to contact the Ministry about getting rid of some of the more, ah… 'troublesome' poltergeists."

Harry and Oliver looked at each other, dumbfounded. Was Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the greatest sorcerer in the world, really suggesting such a far-fetched scenario as this? They decided not to challenge the headmaster; he was clearly thinking about the health of the Ravenclaw coach.

Even though it had only been Coach Snortson who had taken ill, the other coaches, apart from Oliver, were visibly shaken by the incident, and both Harry and Oliver had no idea why; the Ravenclaw coach had always kept herself to herself and, like the others, had only ever ventured out of her living quarters at mealtimes and when her team needed coaching, so it wasn't very logical that they would know something about her that the rest of the school didn't, or was it? The whole thing was very bizarre. From the looks of terror on their faces it seemed as though they were mumbling between each other about something that they'd rather nobody else heard. Even the sour and stern Coach Swampstead had an air of fear around her. Harry just couldn't seem to understand why they were all so afraid of something that happened to a different person when they weren't around. Yes, he understood how they could be afraid if they had actually _seen_ Coach Snortson being thrown across the corridor like a ragdoll, but they hadn't, so why were they so terrified?

For the hour and a half leading up to the Quidditch match, Harry's mind was racing with questions. What was going on? There was no conceivable way that Dumbledore believed his own story. Surely, there was something that the teachers were covering up. But what was it?

The events during breakfast time weren't the only things that were fresh in Harry's mind. The encounter with the dark figure in his dream had rattled him, but he didn't show it; he didn't want Oliver worrying over something that seemed so mundane as a nightmare. But everything that happened in the dream felt so real. The flames that burnt the door, the splash of the water, it all felt as though Harry was actually experiencing it, and it terrified him. The only source of comfort that Harry had from his dream was the knowledge that Oliver had rescued him. Yes, the Oliver in his dream may have been just that, a dream, but it was still extremely comforting to know that he had someone who would watch over him. Harry was unaware that Oliver was suffering from his own inner turmoil, however.

Oliver had been shaken very much by his dream. It had started off so happily, but had quickly deteriorated into him losing sight of Harry, and could have even meant the loss of the boy he loved so much. It didn't matter to him that it was just in his dream, it felt too real for him to ignore, but there was one shining moment during the dream in which Oliver felt needed; he could see that Harry was in danger, even if it wasn't technically real, and he had rushed to save him. He swelled with pride at the thought that his boyfriend had called upon him for help. But something rang in the back of Oliver's mind. It shouldn't have been possible for him to simply cross over into Harry's dream, but yet it had still happened. Oliver was used to his life being incredibly simple and normal until he came back to Hogwarts and met up with Harry, even if for the first few weeks life had remained virtually the same, with the only major differences made in his life being that he started a relationship with Harry, and that he had thrust upon himself the responsibility of helping Harry with his powers.

Worried about how Harry would react if he told him exactly what had happened during his dream, Oliver decided that the best course of action for him to take would be to do a little investigating, with the help of Hermione; she had always been an outstanding witch and was able to complete the most complicated of puzzles in minutes. He knew that Hermione would be able to help him work out what was going on through using the library, but that was her area of expertise. The best way for Oliver to do a little investigating of his own would be to try and worm information out of the other coaches and teachers. The hushed nature of the coaches' chattering, and Dumbledore's ludicrous scenario of other poltergeists attacking Coach Snortson, both seemed to point towards something far more sinister. But _what_ could it be?

Whilst Harry forced himself to deny the truth, he couldn't help but shudder uncontrollably as he began to think back to his dream; he had broken his ankle in his dream, and when he woke up, the exact same ankle had suffered the exact same damage. He was deluding himself by thinking that it must have happened when he fell from on top of Oliver. He _knew_ that this wasn't the case. He had felt the pain stabbing at his ankle even before Oliver had knocked him to the floor. He was terrified for his life; what if that thing came back to him in his dreams, and tried to kill? If the damage done in his dream was real, and he had actually broken his ankle in the real world, who knows what would have happened if the dark figure had been able to finish his curse before Oliver charged into him? Harry gulped hard at the thought. The more he thought about it, the harder the reality seemed to become that he had in fact almost died. His blood ran cold as it dawned on him that there was every possibility of him being attacked his dream again, and with the knowledge that his powers were deemed useless in the dream world, he would be left completely defenceless. He had to stay awake, it was all he could do if he wanted to survive, at least until he managed to find a way to stop whatever it was that was stalking him. Like Oliver, Harry knew that the best thing to do would be to talk to someone who would be able to work things out quickly; Hermione.


	17. Hermione's Terror

**Chapter Seventeen – Hermione's Terror**

Ten minutes until Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the season, against Hufflepuff. The terrifying event at breakfast time seemed to no longer have its sustained effect on the coaches, particularly Rynold Hedgeforth, the Hufflepuff coach, who seemed just as vibrant and enthusiastic as he had the night Harry saw him at WizenYouth. It astounded Harry that he was seemingly unperturbed by Coach Snortson's disturbing episode, despite his obvious fear when he was chatting to Coach Swampstead. From the changing rooms, Harry could see that she was sat in the stands, waiting for the teams to come onto the pitch, with an unmistakable look of fear still enshrouding her sour expression. But he knew that he'd need to put the entire morning out of his mind in order to concentrate on the match ahead. He might have been going out with Oliver, but he knew that that wouldn't stop the former keeper from being upset if they lost the match because of a dream.

The other team members were already changed into their Quidditch robes, with Oliver giving Harry a stern expression that told him to hurry up so that he could deliver his usual pep talk. Harry loved Oliver, but he didn't always like his competitive nature, especially when he became agitated about an upcoming match. He got changed quickly and sat down on the creaky wooden benches lined around the room, with the others. Oliver droned on and on as he delivered his pep talk while the majority of the team merely slumped forward in their seats in a fake sleep, much to Harry's amusement. Oliver wasn't impressed.

"Honestly," he complained, "how do you expect to beat Hufflepuff with an attitude like that?"

Ten o'clock.

With a heavy sigh, Oliver ushered the Gryffindor team out of the changing rooms and onto the pitch, where the Hufflepuff team had already assembled, with Coach Hedgeforth stood proudly at the front, and Madame Hooch stood in the centre of the pitch, her sharp yellow eyes glinting in the bright morning sun. It looked as though the world of professional Quidditch was taking its toll on the aging witch, with deep-set wrinkles chiselled into her forehead and around her eyes. She urged the coaches to shake hands.

As Oliver and Rynold shook hands, the worries from that morning were washed completely out of Harry's mind. This was the place where he wouldn't have to worry about anything. Quidditch had always gave him a rush, one that made him feel invincible. The cool air rushing past his face, the excitement of seeing the Snitch gleaming against the sunlight, the thrill of racing the opposing seeker to the Snitch. This was why he loved the sport so much.

Before Harry knew it, Oliver and Rynold had released each other's hand and were walking back over to the bottom of the stands, waiting in the cool shade. With a sharp blow of Madame Hooch's whistle, both teams kicked off hard from the grass, with the crowds in the stands cheering as they rose.

It felt wonderful as the cool summer air rushed past Harry's face. The exhilarating feeling that only appeared when he was playing Quidditch had returned. He continued to rise further into the air until he was soaring high above the pitch. Harry squinted through the bright sunlight, looking for any signs of shimmering gold that might have been the Snitch. So far, nothing. All he could see were the rays of sunshine blazing through his glasses, and the other players below rushing around. The game had gotten off to a quick start, with Gryffindor scoring the opening goal and putting them in the lead. It struck Harry as slightly odd that the Hufflepuff team wasn't as much of a challenge as any of the team had expected. But he knew that this wasn't a reason to lay back and relax; just because the rest of the team wasn't playing well that didn't mean that their seeker wouldn't be top par. He nudged the back of his Firebolt and accelerated forwards, all the while scanning the entire pitch for signs of the Snitch.

After about ten minutes of searching, there had been no sightings of the Snitch, and Harry was beginning to get frustrated. So far, the match had been relatively boring, a first for him. Usually Quidditch had been a very exciting game, and had never failed to keep Harry's rapt attention. But within the first fifteen minutes of the match, Gryffindor had been up by a staggering one hundred and ten points, while Hufflepuff was stuck at zero. Beneath the stands, Oliver was on all fours laughing uncontrollably, much to Hedgeforth's obvious annoyance. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Oliver was laughing at the Hufflepuff team's poor play in the match.

The game went on for an extra half hour before Harry finally managed to catch a glimpse of the Snitch. There it was, fluttering around the goalposts near Ron, the shimmering golden ball that Harry had so desperately wanted to catch to end this boring game. He kicked at the side of his Firebolt and rocketed towards the goalposts, to Ron's alarm. Luckily, the Quaffle was at the other end of the pitch like it had been for most of the game. As Harry grew closer to the goalposts, it became evident that Gryffindor had scored yet again because the crowds in the stands erupted into cheers, apart from the Slytherins who had been booing all through the game. But Harry was quickly losing interest and was eager to simply get the game over and done with. It had been a huge disappointment for him, especially since he preferred a challenge when playing Quidditch. Closer and closer he got to the Snitch, and still there was no sight of the Hufflepuff seeker. There couldn't have been any possible way that he hadn't seen Harry heading straight for the Snitch.

Meanwhile, down beneath the stands, Rynold Hedgeforth's veins were throbbing in his head. He was visibly infuriated by his team's complete failure during the game. He was swinging his arms wildly in Harry's direction to get the seeker to chase after the Snitch, but nothing worked. Eventually, he gave up and slumped against the wall, defeated. This only increased Oliver's laughter to the most that Harry had ever seen. He was glad that Oliver was enjoying the game, because from the looks on the Gryffindor team's faces, they weren't exactly enthralled by the game either. It was a huge relief when Harry felt the cold ball fluttering its wings in his grasp. He was just glad to have ended the game, let alone win it. Whilst the Gryffindor students cheered raucously from the stands, both teams made their way back down to the grass.

"That was a great-"

"It wasn't great at all, Oliver." Ron interrupted, "Hufflepuff was terrible. We would have enjoyed it more if they had actually put up a fight."

"I suppose you're right." Oliver admitted.

At that moment, Hedgeforth came storming over to the Gryffindor team, still clearly angered by his team's humiliating defeat.

"Mr. Wood, I'd like a word with you, please?" he demanded.

"If you've got something to say to me, say it to the whole team."

Hedgeforth pursed his lips.

"Are you aware that your seeker," he shot a dark glance at Harry, "is using prohibited equipment?"

"What the hell are you talking about, Hedgeforth?" Oliver retorted with an air of annoyance, "Nothing, and I mean _nothing_, that we use is prohibited."

"Oh, please! Mr. Potter is using a Firebolt! All we have are Comet Two Sixtys!"

"That's not _our_ problem. Harry's had that Firebolt since his third year and he's been able to use it ever since he got it!

Madame Hooch, seeing the commotion, strode over to the two coaches.

"What's all this hubbub about, gentlemen?" she said.

"It seems that our Hufflepuff coach has an issue with Harry here using his Firebolt during Quidditch games." Oliver stated.

"Mr. Hedgeforth, I'd like to remind you that at Hogwarts all brooms are permitted. We simply cannot change the rules in order to fit your team's standards. I'm afraid you will have to buy better brooms if you wish for your team to be able to fly like Mr. Potter here."

Hedgeforth screwed his face up in disgust and stormed off back to his team. He walked with them quickly off the pitch and into the Hufflepuff changing rooms, occasionally hitting the side of his team members' heads.

"Is he even allowed to do that to members of his team?" Ron said to Madame Hooch, a sour expression covering his face.

"Don't worry about it, Ron. I'm sure he's just irritated by his team's," Oliver fought back a snigger, "bad luck."

"That may be, Mr. Wood, but it does not excuse striking a pupil, let alone a member of one's own team." Madame Hooch walked in the direction of the Hufflepuff changing rooms, a stern expression covering her face.

"Someone's in trouble…" Harry snickered.

The Gryffindor common room was alive and bustling as it usually was after a victory, with platters of food stacked high with all sorts of food. To no surprise of Harry's, Ron had managed to worm his around the throng of celebrating students and over to the long table, where he began feasting away on the countless chicken legs that stood before him. Hermione merely shook her head and smirked. Eventually, the redhead made his way back over to the table where Harry, Hermione and Oliver were sat. He carried a large plate of chicken with him and began to eat it when he sat down.

"What - a - white - wash," he commented through mouthfuls of chicken, sending pieces of meat flying across the table as he spoke and making Hermione cringe, "We - wiped - the -floor - with - them."

"Do you mind, Ron? I don't want to have bits of your food all over my clothes, thank you very much. Can't you talk when you _aren't_ eating anything? It's so disgusting." Hermione said agitatedly.

Ron didn't answer back, but obeyed anyway and started chewing with his mouth closed.

As the festivities around them continued to thrive, Harry couldn't help but notice that there was something odd about Hermione's behaviour. He hadn't noticed it until now, but it suddenly became apparent that there was something troubling her when Dean Thomas cheered loudly as he made his way through the portrait hole, clambered up from the floor and dived into the waiting arms of his boyfriend, Seamus Finnigan.

"Do they have to do that in here? Ugh…" Hermione complained as Dean and Seamus kissed.

Harry, Ron and Oliver were aghast at this statement. It seemed that many other people had heard her remarks, too, and were turning round to glare at her. In a matter of seconds, the room had undergone a drastic change from being lively and vibrant to cold, and unwelcoming. All eyes were on Hermione as she still sat there in her chair, seemingly unperturbed by the many students who were staring darkly at her, willing her to burst into flames in her very seat.

"Hermione, are you out of your mind?!" Ron exclaimed.

"Yeah, Hermione, what was that all about? You were always the most accepting person we knew!" Dean and Seamus were storming over to her, "Why the sudden change of heart, eh?!"

Hermione turned a deep fuchsia. She attempted to speak, but her words caught in her throat. After several minutes of intense silence she eventually found the ability to speak.

"Oh my God. I'm so sorry! I don't know what came over me!"

The entire common room continued to shoot dark glances in Hermione's direction. Befuddled, Dean and Seamus merely walked away without so much of an 'OK'.

"Come with me." Ron grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her upstairs, with Harry and Oliver following closely behind.

As they passed Harry's bedroom, Harry and Oliver exchanged quick glances at each other, and then at the bed in the room. It was evident what they had been up to that morning; white streaks lined the bed sheets.

"We'll have time to clean them up later." Harry whispered suggestively in Oliver's ear, "After we're done, of course."

Oliver gave a cheeky grin in response and the pair continued to follow Ron and Hermione through into Ron's room. Despite having been at Hogwarts for over a month now, Harry had never seen the inside of Ron's room. He noticed that it was rather cramped in here, with barely any room to move. A small wooden chest of drawers stood to one side of the room against the circular wall, a small, elongated mirror standing on top of the chestnut oak. A single, medium-sized cabinet was at the side of Ron's sizeable double bed, which was covered in orange sheets and bearing a large, black cannon. Harry should have guessed that Ron would have changed his bed sheets to that of the Chudley Cannons.

"Sit down." Ron said to Hermione with an air of anger in his voice.

Trembling, she obeyed.

"Hermione, what the hell were you thinking?" he began, pacing around the particularly small room, "You've _never_ said anything like that before and I would never have _dreamed_ that you'd have ever said something as horrible as that. You sounded _just like_ Malfoy."

Hermione's voice seemed to catch in her throat yet again.

"Well?" Ron urged.

She eventually managed to catch her voice again.

"I-I'm… I'm sorry…" she quivered, "I've j-just b-been on e-edge l-lately."

"It's not me you should be saying sorry too, Hermione. How do you think Harry and Oliver felt when you said that, let alone Dean and Seamus? The amount of times Harry and Oliver have kissed when we've been with them and you haven't ever said anything remotely homophobic. And what do you mean, 'on edge'?"

She turned to Harry and Oliver. Tears were now flowing freely down her face as she began to apologise.

"Harry, Oliver, I'm so sorry. I'd never say something like that under normal circumstances."

"Hang on," Oliver said, "What do you mean, 'normal circumstances'? And why are you 'on edge'?"

"Well… over the last few weeks I've been having these… dreams. Each dream is entirely different from the last, apart from one aspect; there's a hooded figure following me. The reason that I've only just started being on edge is because of the dream I had last night."

Harry and Oliver's faces became enshrouded by horror. They had a gut-wrenching feeling that Hermione had been experiencing the same thing that they had. Ron seemed clueless as to what she was talking about, and he failed to notice the shocked expressions on Harry and Oliver's faces. Harry and Oliver were both too interested in Hermione's story to notice that it rang a bell with either of them. But Hermione seemed to have realised that what she saying wasn't completely alien.

"Wait, do you two know something?" she asked Harry and Oliver, who both looked at each other.

"I had a dream…" Harry said.

"And me…" said Oliver.

"It was really scary, too." Harry began, "There was a black-hooded figure… with glowing red eyes and a deep voice-"

"Except the voice is more like-" Oliver continued

"A growl…" Hermione ended as she clapped a hand to her mouth.

Ron was stood staring in shock. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. His girlfriend and his two best friends were finishing off each other's sentences, as though they knew _exactly_ what each other had been experiencing in their dreams. But this wasn't even possible, was it? How could someone know about somebody else's dream before they had even been told what it was?

"Last night," Hermione began, "I was having my regular good dream, where I'm sitting on a beach with my parents and I'm showing them all the magic I've learned. But then this… thing… appeared and started to tear up my books, and even tried to snap my wand, but I managed to stop him."

"It was just a dream, Hermione," Ron interjected, "It's not as though it has an effect in the real world."

"That's where you'd be wrong, Ronald." Hermione retorted, "I woke up to find that my copy of _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 7 _had been ripped to shreds. Crookshanks was sitting next to the book so I simply assumed that it was just a coincidence that he shredded it during a dream where the book got shredded."

Harry looked terrified. It seemed that Hermione _had_ been experiencing the same sort of dreams as him, after all. He listened with rapt attention.

"But, Hermione, your copy of the book isn't shredded. It's on the cabinet over there." Ron pointed towards the cabinet. Sure enough, the book was there intact.

"That's why we use magic, Ron. It was nothing that a simple _Reparo_ couldn't fix. Anyway, I went back to sleep and this time I was dreaming that I was at a fairground-"

"A what?" Ron asked quizzically.

"It's a Muggle place where people go to have fun. They have rides - big machines that take you up into the air – and different stalls where you can win different prizes like goldfish or teddies." Oliver explained.

Harry looked at Oliver with a surprised expression covering his features.

"I didn't know you were so in tune with the Muggle world," he said.

"Didn't I tell you? I was raised by my Muggle grandmother."

"Ah, yeah, I remember now." Harry nodded, "Anyway, carry on, Hermione."

"Thank you!" Hermione sighed in exasperation, "I was at a fairground with Ron and my parents. Things were going fine until that same figure showed up. Once it turned up, everything started going haywire. The lights on the Ferris wheel started to flicker and sparks flew everywhere. Then the figure started to attack everyone. It flew around with a sort of black fog behind it and destroyed almost everything. Then it flew to the ground near us and started shouting something about the elements being his to control. It threw a shard of glass at me but I put my arm up to stop it and I ended up getting cut. I remember it screaming the… the Killing Curse at my… my mother…"

Hermione trailed off as though she was reliving a painful memory. But it's just a dream, thought Ron, surely nothing could have happened in the real world.

"And?" Ron pushed, "What happened?"

"She died in my dream, Ron! And look at what I got delivered today after the match!"

Hermione pulled a ruffled, tear-soaked envelope from her robes and thrust it in Ron's direction. He gave Hermione a quizzical glance as he unfurled the envelope and took out the piece of paper within. The letter was also covered in tearstains, but whether they were from Hermione or the sender, Ron wasn't sure. Ron's heart sank as he read through the letter:

_Hermione,  
Something terrible happened during the night but I don't know what it was. It breaks my heart to have to tell you that your mother isn't waking up. I called an ambulance and the paramedics are here. According to them, she's in a coma, but judging by the tones of their voices, I don't think that there is much of a chance of your mum waking up. Usually, I wouldn't ask for things like this, but isn't there a way that you could get your school nurse to make a potion to bring her back to us? I'm so sorry for having to break this to you via letter but there was no other way for me to contact you.  
Love Dad._

"Don't you get it, Ron?" Hermione said, "What happened in that dream _did_ have an effect in the real world. Look at my arm!" she rolled up her robes and revealed a cut on her arm, "I got this _because _I got it in my dream. My mum's in a coma _because _she died in my dream. And I have a feeling that that thing isn't going to stop. After my mum died in my dream, the figure seemed to be cursing itself, as though something didn't quite go to plan. My guess is that it actually intended to _kill_ my mum, then my dad, and then…" she gulped hard, "me."

Harry and Oliver were frozen in their spot, horror-stricken. Hermione's eyes widened.

"You two know what I'm talking about, don't you?! What's happened in your dreams?!" she was suddenly overwhelmed with fear.

Harry started to tell the others about the dream that he'd had the night before. The horrible reality of what was happening began to set in as Hermione clapped a hand to her mouth for the second time when Harry told them about his ankle being broken in the dream, and then being broken in the real world. Oliver was horrified at the revelation that Harry had had the exact same dream as he had. He voiced his thoughts to the others.

"Wait, so… you were having your own dream, and then it all went badly?" Harry said.

"Yeah…"

"But then this 'void' appeared in the sky above the Quidditch pitch and you could see me in danger?"

"Yeah…"

"So you came into my dream and helped me?"

"In a nutshell, yeah. I knew it was just a dream but I still wasn't going to let any harm come to you." Oliver pecked Harry on the cheek.

"In my dream I shouted out for you and then you came and helped me, and then in your dream, you heard me shout out and then you came to me. Wait… does that mean I brought you into the dream with me?"

"It certainly sounds that way, Harry," Hermione said, "But we really need to speak to Dumbledore about it. What if we aren't the only ones who have had dreams like this?"

"Now, hold on." Oliver said, "Why don't we try and do a little investigating on our own? You should have seen how quick Dumbledore was to dismiss Coach Snortson's episode this morning as a simple seizure. We've managed to work out that what happens in our dreams also happens in the real world. It's highly likely that Snortson's episode was anything other than a seizure. I've seen people having seizures, and none of them have resulted in the victim being flopped around in the air and slammed against the wall."

"Not to mention her eyes," Harry added, "They were completely glazed over, you couldn't even see her pupils. She was gurgling and frothing at the mouth. Honestly, I've never seen anything like it. I'm terrified for my life right now. The figure said that it was after my powers. And if it attacks you while you're dreaming, what good will it do for me to fall asleep? I'll be playing right into its hands."

"Harry, you need to sleep." Hermione commented, "It's the only way we're going to be able to investigate this without raising suspicion. Think about it; how would it look to the teachers if three students and a member of staff weren't sleeping? Wouldn't it look odd if we were awake at night and then working hard the next day for our NEWTs? We have those to think about, too, Harry."

"Hermione, don't you get it? If we go to sleep there's a high chance that we may never wake up. What good does that do us if we're dead before we even take our NEWTs? We need to focus on staying awake first so that we can investigate whatever it is that's going on."

"Fine. But we're going to have to make sure that we move quickly in our investigation. It takes four days for exhaustion to fully set in; after that we'll begin to experience microsleep."

"And what's that?" asked Ron.

"It's where you're so exhausted that your body begins to take over your consciousness. As you continue to become more and more deprived of sleep, your body shuts down for a period of time ranging from a fraction of a second to a full thirty seconds. All it could take is a fraction of second for that thing to kill any one of us. If we're going to stay up constantly, we'll need to dedicate all our time to investigating this. It's the only way if we're going to stop this before it gets out of hand."

"If that's the case," Oliver began, "We better get started as soon as possible. But if we're going to stay up for such a long amount of time, we're going to have to save as much energy as we can. That means," he turned to face Harry, "we're going to have to stop our little 'activities' until we can get this sorted."

Harry was a little put out by this; he'd always immensely enjoyed making love with Oliver, and now that this was being stopped, he was more determined than ever to work out what was going on.

"The same goes for you two," Oliver added and turned to face Hermione and Ron.

"Right." Ron and Hermione nodded.

"We ought to tell everyone about it." Ron stated.

"Are you mad?" Harry said, "And cause a mass panic? Besides, I doubt anyone would believe us. I mean, come on; who's going to believe that there's a hooded figure stalking us in our dreams and trying to kill us? Would anybody even believe that what happens in our dreams happens to us in the real world, either? I don't think so."

"Harry's right." Hermione said, "The best thing for us to do would be to keep things under wraps for now. Not that anyone _would_ believe us, even if we told them. But I'm sure that the teachers are hiding something; they were pretty quick to dismiss the attack on Coach Snortson."

"I wonder why…" Oliver said.

"That's just something that we'll have to find out for ourselves." Hermione replied, "We'd best get started as soon as we can. I don't know how you're all going to investigate this but I'm going to the one place that could give us the most information; the-"

"Library," Harry, Ron and Oliver said in unison.

"I don't know about you two," Harry said to Ron and Oliver, "but I'm going with her. We'll be able to investigate this whole thing faster if we can trawl through all the books quickly. You in?"

Ron and Oliver nodded their agreement.

"Then we'd best get a move on. Time isn't on our side here, so we're going to have devote all our time to investigating this. But we'll need to keep appearances up during the day; go to classes and eat at mealtimes like everyone else. You'll need to keep up with the coaching sessions as though nothing's going on, Oliver. The same for you, Harry. You'll need to make sure that you're up to scratch with your Quidditch skills, otherwise people might start getting suspicious."

"So it's settled," Oliver confirmed, "We'll act as normal during the day, and then we'll do as much investigating as we can during the evenings and nights."

They all nodded their heads in agreement.

"This is going to be a tough week…" Harry commented as all four of them left Ron's bedroom and made their way to library.

Harry was right. The next few days _were_ going to be difficult, but the next few weeks were going to prove an even greater challenge. For every student at Hogwarts was now in danger, and the teachers seemed to be hiding something far more sinister than anything that Harry had encountered…


	18. Investigating the Dreams

**Chapter Eighteen – Investigating the Dreams**

Tensions were running high as Harry, Oliver, Ron and Hermione sat in the library, trawling through countless numbers of books related to all-manner of subjects - _Dreams and their Meanings_, _So you have a stalker?_, _Uncommon Injuries and how they are Obtained_. The list was endless, but none of them appeared to give any clues as to what it could be that was stalking them in their dreams. They knew that they'd have to find out quickly; they had already been searching and investigating for well over two hours now, and the time was fast approaching 8:00 p.m.

Madame Pince, the school librarian, was soon ushering them out of the library for closing time, and they were starting to get desperate for answers. They might have still had three days to go before they started to become too exhausted, but the quicker that they could work things out, the sooner they would be able to go back to sleep. Sleeping now would put them in great danger; it was the very thing that exposed them to the hooded figure. Reluctantly, the four of them returned to the Gryffindor common room.

Dean and Seamus were sat at a table near the portrait hole. They gave Hermione a dark stare as she walked past them. Harry walked up to them.

"Don't worry about Hermione," he said, "she's been a having a bit of a rough time. Her mum's in a coma. She didn't mean what she said earlier."

A glint of sympathy appeared in Dean and Seamus' eyes. They stood up and walked over to Hermione. After a couple of minutes of tense whispering, Hermione hugged them. It was a slight relief for Harry that he was able to convince Dean and Seamus to forgive Hermione, without giving away that they were investigating the dream stalker.

After about half an hour, Dean and Seamus went up to their bedroom.

"Lucky sods…" Harry muttered.

Oliver must have heard him because he was soon striding over to Harry. He sat down on the chair next to him.

"Harry… I know how you feel knowing that we can't make love, but we need to save as much energy as we can if we're going to work this thing out." Oliver pulled him into a tight hug and kissed him, "It'll only be a few days, I promise. After that, we can do whatever we want, whenever we want. OK?"

"Oliver's right, Harry." Hermione commented with a weak smile, "It's only going to be for a few days. Hopefully, we'll have enough information after that to at least be able to survive in our dreams. Then you can have all the fun with him that you want."

Harry felt reassured, but he was still uncomfortable with idea of having to wait to show Oliver his love for him. But he knew that he would have no other choice but to wait if he wanted to survive the hooded figure's attacks. What was the point in making love to Oliver once, and then falling asleep and dying in his dream, when he could wait until the problem is resolved, and then make love to Oliver as many times as he wanted?

"Alright, then," Harry said and returned the kiss, "but we're not gonna be able to walk after all this is done with," he added with a wink.

Oliver chuckled in response.

"So what are we supposed to do during the night if we're not allowed to sleep?" Ron asked suddenly.

"That's something that I didn't quite think about…" Hermione realised.

"We could always just do what we'd normally do during the-"

"Homework." Hermione said in an authoritative tone, "It gives us more time to do our homework."

"Hermione," Ron groaned, "We've got extra time awake. Shouldn't we be doing something more productive with our time instead of homework?"

"And what is more productive than homework, Ronald?" Hermione gave him an offended look.

"You forget that I still have my Invisibility Cloak, Hermione." Harry said, "We could use it to go back to the library and do some more research."

"That's actually not a bad idea," said Hermione, "But will it fit all of us underneath it?"

"Don't worry about me," Oliver assured them, "I'm a member of staff so I can walk about freely."

"That means that we'll be alright to go, then!" Ron chirped, "The cloak can fit us three," he gestured to Harry and Hermione, "underneath at one time, can't it?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded and he went upstairs to fetch the Invisibility Cloak, returning a minute later, "Got it."

Harry threw the cloak over he, Ron and Hermione and, led by Oliver, they made their way out of the portrait hole, through the castle, and into the deserted library.

It was spectacularly eerie in the library at night time, as Harry had found out when he first visited the restricted section at night time during his first year at Hogwarts. Thick cords of previously-unnoticed cobwebs lined the ceiling, with the occasional spider dangling from its web here and there. The only light in the room was that of the moon, shining in brightly through the windows and casting dark, mysterious shadows across the walls as the light danced over the tall bookshelves. It hadn't changed at all since then. Harry didn't miss that stabbing cold feeling he always got when he was wandering around at night, but he chose to ignore tonight, like he had all those other times.

"Where shall we start?" Ron whispered under the cloak.

"It's OK, Ron, the coast's clear." Oliver said, "You don't need to whisper."

Whilst it might have been cold outside the cloak, it was a refreshing feeling when compared to the stifling heat that was beginning to grow underneath the silky fabric. Beads of sweat were beginning to rise on Harry's forehead as he stepped out from underneath the cloak. His breath instantly began to fog the air in front of him as the true coldness of the library was revealed.

"Bloody hell, it's cold!" Ron complained, "Isn't there a way to warm it up a bit in here?"

"Ron, we can't run the risk of setting up a fire in here." Hermione said, "Not only would the light give from it give us away, but the bookcases would most likely be set on fire."

"I could use my pyrokinesis to heat up the air," Harry suggested, "All I need to do is mix the fire in me with the air and then I can just warm the room up without any light."

"Harry, I know what using your powers does to you," Oliver warned, "Make sure you don't exhaust yourself."

"I won't," Harry assured him.

Harry rubbed his hands together vigorously and closed his eyes. No sooner had his eyes shut he began to feel a gentle warming sensation tingling around his body as he began to concentrate on the flames inside him. He could feel the subtle heat from the fire starting to flare up inside him and grow ever stronger. It began to spread across his entire being and beyond; up his arms and neck, down his legs and feet, and out into the air around him. Small wisps of steam drifted away from his skin as the air around him began to heat up, much to Ron, Hermione and Oliver's joint relief. The goosebumps on their arms began to die down.

"That'll do, Harry," Oliver patted him on the shoulder. He was hot to the touch, "Harry?"

Harry shook his head. The heat of the fire quickly dissipated from his body, and suddenly he felt exposed, cold even, as though he was wearing no clothes at all. He shivered slightly. After a few minutes, his body seemed to adjust itself.

"Are you alright, Harry?" Oliver asked concernedly.

"Yeah, I feel fine," he lied.

The truth was, Harry wished that he hadn't used his powers. Now, he felt drained of energy and welcomed nothing more than to simply sleep. It was taking all of his strength to stay awake. Hermione glanced at him, a worried expression covering her face. But she didn't voice her concerns; she knew that Harry wouldn't want Oliver to fret over it, but she knew that if she didn't think of something quickly, Harry might end up falling asleep, the very last thing that she wanted to happen. Harry came back round to his senses, fighting the encroaching sleep with all his might.

"Where shall we start first?" Oliver asked.

Hermione stood in thought.

"Try looking for some books that have dream control in them," she said after a while.

"Hermione, we tried that earlier before Madame Pince came and rushed us out," Harry reminded her, "Shouldn't we be looking for something about dreams having an effect on your actual body?"

"Harry, think about it," Hermione said indignantly, "What are the chances of anyone experiencing the same thing as us? Entirely remote, I'd say. In all the books I've read over our time at Hogwarts, not once did I read about people being attacked and killed while they were dreaming."

"Fine," Harry sighed, "Me and Oliver will look over in the Restricted Section, and you and Ron can start looking around the aisles here."

Hermione and Ron nodded in agreement and watched as Harry and Oliver walked towards the Restriction Section, unsure about what they would find out here, if anything. With a loud yawn, Ron turned to the bookshelf next to him.

"Guess we ought to get started," he said to Hermione, "I'll search this side, you search that side."

Hermione nodded and turned towards the bookcase, and started to sift through the endless rows of books. She ran a finger along the spines of countless numbers of books, eventually stopping at a tatty, brown, leather book. It was covered in dust and cobwebs, much to Hermione's disgust. The title read:

Ancient Forms of Magic and why they no longer Exist

"You'd think they'd at least dust the library every once in a while…" she muttered to herself as she pried open the book.

Hermione was taken aback as a gentle wisp of white energy drifted daintily out of the book and floated around her ears and head. It seemed to be muttering something into her ear, but she couldn't quite make out what it was.

"…_rnimagi..."_

Hermione, believing that she was seeing things, shook her head in order to clear her thoughts. Sure enough, the wisp had disappeared. She returned to the old leather book and began to flick through the pages, skimming over every little piece of paper for any information that could be deemed useful. She stopped at a particularly long and drawn-out piece of text. The letters looked to have worn out over time, with many letters missing in some places. But one particular half-worn sub-heading on the page caught her eye; 'Th…ise…nd…all…f…he …rnimagi…in t...e 5th Cen...ry'

"...rnimagi..." Hermione whispered to herself, intrigued, "I wonder..."

But she was unable to read further; the majority of the letters were illegible. But there was something peculiar about this particular section. It looked as though most of the pages had been torn out. Hermione flicked through the pages, hoping to get at least some form of information that hadn't been worn away from the remaining pages. As she navigated through the book, she realised that more pages than she could even think about had been torn out. There were huge gaps in between page numbers, page forty nine jumped straight to page sixty eight, page one hundred and twelve jumped straight to page one hundred and seventy three.

"Ron, come and look at this," she called, with Ron putting a particularly hefty book on a table and walking over to her, "There are pages missing from this book."

"So?" Ron yawned, "I bet it's just because it's an old book. They've probably just fallen out as it got older."

"That might be so, but look at this," Hermione began to read a small piece of unworn text on one of the pages.

'There are many types of magic that are now either obsolete or rarely used. None more so than the types of magic in which a witch or wizard can manipulate themselves, or the world around them, such as Animagi and Metamorphmagi, with the latter having a significantly greater advantage due to Metamorphmagi gaining their powers through heritage. Up until the late 5th Century, most witches and wizards used these forms of magic along with their wands. This proved to be a particularly valuable combination, in that they would be able to do things that many other witches and wizards could not. There were, however, several other forms of this type of magic that were extremely dangerous. But it wasn't the powers that were dangerous; it was the witch or wizard behind them. There was one form of magic that posed the most amount of danger to any witch or wizard. Like Metamorphmagi, a witch or wizard could not simply gain this power, they were born with it; the power to manipulate other humans' (not just witches and wizards') dreams. They created a huge wave of terror and plunged the entire world, Muggle world included, into a state of unparalleled panic. Wizards and witches of all ages were dying in their sleep, and it was this particular type of 'Magi' that caused the death toll to increase significantly during the 5th Century. These types of 'Magi were soon classified as…'

"Classified as what?" Ron asked, horrified at the knowledge that they were facing an extremely powerful type of ancient magic.

"That's where the page ends, the next one looks as though it's been ripped out," Hermione said as she flipped the page over and back again, "But now we know that the thing that's trying to kill us is some form of 'Magi'."

"Yeah, but what type? There are loads of them," Ron said.

"It shouldn't be too difficult. When I first opened this book a little wisp of air floated out and whispered in my ear. I couldn't quite understand what it said but I can distinctly remember something that sounded like 'rnimagi'. So the best thing for us to look for now is in a book about Magi."

"Right. Let's get looking," said Ron.

He and Hermione started to sift through the many other books in the aisle. They scaled the bookcase from top to bottom, hoping that they would find something that could at least relate in some way to Magi. But they found nothing apart from old Potions recipes and Transfiguration textbooks. Hermione looked up at the clock on the wall next to one of the bookcases: 02:47 a.m.

She was starting to feel herself becoming increasingly tired. The effects of no sleep were beginning to make themselves known to her, and Ron seemed to notice that Hermione's concentration was beginning to slip as she grew gradually slower as she pored through the books.

"Hermione, are you alright?" Ron asked concernedly.

"Yes…" she yawned, "I'm just feeling a bit tired. Maybe if I just had a little- NO! What am I saying? I can't sleep yet!"

She shook her head vigorously and slapped herself on the cheeks twice, with Ron wincing as she did so.

"Hermione…"

"I'm fine, Ron. If I show signs of falling asleep I want you to slap me, hard," she commanded, "And don't hesitate to do it just because I'm a girl," she added sharply.

"Alright," Ron sighed in submission.

Harry and Oliver had been trawling through piles upon piles of old, raggedy books of all different colours and sizes for about an hour now. There were several large red ones, and a lot of small blue ones, along with other regular-sized dark green books, all leather-bound. Harry was really struggling to keep his eyes open at this point. He regretted using powers now even more than he already did when he first began to feel tired. Glancing sideways at Oliver, Harry could see that the older boy was also struggling to keep his eyes open. Harry slapped himself on his face and was soon wide-eyed. He did the same to Oliver.

"Ow!" Oliver shouted in pain, "Harry, why'd you do that?"

"Sorry, Oliver, but you were drifting off to sleep."

"Oh. It's alright then," Oliver smiled in return and kissed Harry.

He wanted to do so much more with Harry whilst they were out of earshot and eyesight but with what little energy he had, he knew that having sex with Harry would only make them both extremely exhausted.

"Come on," Oliver said, "We've still got a load of books to get through, even if we have no idea about what to look for."

"Just look for something regarding dreams," Harry suggested, "I'm sure we'll find something about it."

"We've already found something rather interesting," Hermione's voice echoed as she and Ron made their way over to Harry and Oliver, "I was looking at this book, and it says that what we're going through now isn't the first time that it's happened. Read this page." Hermione thrust the book into Harry's hands and waited for him to finished reading it. After reading the piece of text, Harry closed the book and put it down, but Oliver picked it up and started reading it himself.

"So, back in the 5th Century, people were dying in their dreams and they were dying in the real world. That sounds an awful lot similar to what we're all going through now, apart from you, Ron. But I'm just glad that nobody's dead yet. Does it say what type of Magi we ought to be looking for?"

Hermione shook her head.

"No. The page after it has been torn out completely, along with most of the other pages. But I think we're getting there. We've made a lot of progress already, and I think we're pretty close to working out what it is exactly that's stalking us. For now, I think we need to go and find some way of keeping us all awake. I'm really starting to feel exhausted and I know you two are, too," she pointed to Harry and Oliver, "What about you, Ron?"

"Yeah…" he mumbled sleepily, his eyelids drooping closed.

"Maybe this might work if we want to stay awake without slapping ourselves," Hermione pulled her wand out of her pocket and gave it a flourish in Ron's direction, muttering 'Glacius' as she did so.

A huge blast of ice-cold air burst from the end of Hermione's wand and blew straight into Ron's face. He yelped from the coldness and his eyes opened wide in shock. His red hair looked rather windswept, with little crystals of ice dangling from the tips.

"T-thanks for t-that, H-H-Herm-mi-ione…" he shivered.

"Well at least you're awake now," Hermione chuckled, "I'll just grab a couple more books and we can go back to the common room to do some more research. My legs are really starting to ache."

Hermione picked up a few books from the pile next to her and handed them to Harry.

"Hold these while I go and get some more."

"So much for a couple more books…" Harry muttered to Oliver, who chuckled in return.

Scanning the bookcase from top to bottom, Hermione noticed a particularly-thick black book sitting on its own, with a shelf entirely to itself. It looked as though it had been recently used; whilst the shelf that it was sitting on was layered in a thick dust, the book itself was dust-free. This seemed incredibly odd to Hermione, but what shocked her even more was the title of the book.

"Quick! Come over here! I've found something!" she hollered.

"Hermione, be quiet! What if Filch or someone hears us?" Harry whispered back.

"Sorry, but I've just found the _very_ thing that I've been looking for! We're really close to working this out, I can feel it!"

Harry, Ron and Oliver hurried over to where the book was.

"Hermione, this is great news!" Ron smiled widely as he gazed at the spine of the tatty book.

Hermione grabbed the book and heaved at it, the edges of the leather catching onto the wood of the book case. It didn't budge.

"Darn it," she muttered, "One of you give me a hand."

Ron stepped forward and placed his hands at either side of the book. Together with Hermione, he pulled the book with all his might. Eventually, the heavy old book was yanked away from the bookcase with such force that the leather ripped slightly. The sudden movement of the book knocked Ron of his feet, sending him hurtling into the bookcase opposite. Hermione lost her grip on the book and soon it was soaring high into the air. As he fell to the floor, Ron hit his head on a nearby table, knocking him out. Harry, Hermione and Oliver's expressions went from being that of happiness from finding the book they needed, to that of terror within a matter of seconds. If Ron was knocked out, it would mean that the hooded figure would be able to get to him! The old book fell, open, to the floor with a loud thud. The pages that the book had landed on contained a figure with glowing red eyes and a thick, black smoke around it. There was a bold black title:

Nocturnimagi.


	19. Nocturnimagi

**Chapter Nineteen – Nocturnimagi**

"Ron!" Hermione shouted, tears beginning to fill her eyes, "Ron, wake up! RON! Harry, what am I going to do?! He's not waking up!"

The moonlight continued to glow brightly through the windows and casted large shadows across the deserted library as the light danced over the many bookcases and trolleys. It made the entire room look even more eerie now that Ron was unconscious, especially since he was now in grave danger. Hermione shook him vigorously in an attempt to wake him, but nothing appeared to be working. She sobbed into her hands as she realised that all she could do was wait and hope that Ron wouldn't encounter the black-hooded cloak in his dream. Harry and Oliver stood behind her, their hands resting on her shoulders in a comforting manner. Using what little bit of energy Harry had left, he projected a freezing jet of air from his other hand towards Ron's face. The only change that was made was that Ron's face turned from a deep red to a light blue, which only gave Hermione even more reason to worry, not to mention the fact that Harry had almost completely exhausted himself.

"Harry, you're going to freeze him!" she wailed.

But Harry wasn't listening. In fact, he wasn't paying attention to anything around him. Not even Oliver, who was slapping him on the face frantically and casting _Glacius _at him in order to wake him. But Harry's eyes continued to droop, and in no time at all he could feel himself falling to the floor, a darkness like he had never experienced engulfing him as he collided with the cold stone flooring, watching helplessly as Oliver and Hermione's distressed faces grew more and more obscure, eventually fading into nothingness and plunging back into the dream world where he knew the hooded figure would be waiting for him, if it hadn't already managed to get to Ron.

_Not again. The Black Lake was still sparkling under a bright sunshine, and the trees behind Harry were continuing to whisper to him. The whale in the lake splashed around at the surface of the Lake and spilt water onto the shore as large ripples spread outwards. Harry would have enjoyed being here; under normal circumstances, that is, but the current situation only made the vista seemingly taunt him. With the hooded figure stalking him he knew that he'd have to be extremely careful so as to avoid a confrontation. With his powers deemed useless in his dreams, it would be of no advantage to him if he were to go and look for the figure. Instead, he bided his time, waiting for the thing to show itself and attack. The plan after that would have to be improvised. It wasn't as though Harry was able to predict how the figure would attack him if it showed up, and this terrified him even more. Even though Harry knew that he needed to take the utmost care in order to prevent him from being attacked, he couldn't just stand around. He needed to look for Ron, but whether he would be able to find him or not was a complete mystery._

_Ignoring the whale in the lake, and the whispering of the trees, Harry headed straight towards the doors of Hogwarts; if he was going to start looking anywhere for Ron, he might as well start in the first place he could find. He increased his pace slightly in case the figure showed up again and locked the doors, as it had done last time he'd been here. Grabbing the handle of the large wooden doors, Harry heaved and, to his utmost relief, they swung open with incredible ease. There was no sign of the figure yet, but Harry could feel a malevolent presence watching over him, and it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He shook the feeling off and began to walk into the deserted entrance hall. It was like a cathedral; the high stone ceiling was chipped in places, with a large chandelier dangling down, and many candles suspended magically above their holders. As soon as Harry stepped through the towering doors the sunlight outside dimmed, and the sky was suddenly overwhelmed with thick black clouds. Bullets of rain began to cascade down onto the lawns, making huge splashes as they pelted the ground. Distant rumbles of thunder echoed around the empty grounds, growing closer with each passing second. Harry remembered what had appeared at this precise moment when he had had this dream before; the hooded figure. And he was right. Increasing his pace to a run, Harry glanced backwards to see the terrifyingly familiar figure gliding up the lawns in his direction, a thick black mist billowing out from beneath its cloak, its eyes glinting a vicious red. Even though Harry could see the cloak billowing around, it didn't appear as though the figure actually had feet to run._

_Even from a glance Harry could see that the figure was a much faster runner than him, but he wasn't going to let that stop him from getting away this time. Further and further he ran into the castle, through the entrance hall, into the foyer, up the grand staircase, onto the first floor corridor, past the Transfiguration classrooms, through one of the many secret passageways and out onto the seventh floor landing, eventually stopping in front of the Fat Lady._

_"Shit!" Harry screamed when the Fat Lady asked for the password._

_A loud crashing and a whizzing sound turned Harry's attention back to the figure that was close behind him. It continued to glide up the stairs, the same vicious red glow in its eyes. It growled at Harry with such malicious intent that it turned Harry's insides to lead. He knew instantly what was heading for him when he heard the whizzing sound. Sure enough, a bright green wave of light was hurtling towards him. Harry ducked out of the way before it could hit him; he didn't know whether that curse would put him in a coma, as it had done with Hermione's mother, or whether it would kill him outright. But neither result was exactly advantageous or desirable. The stone wall next to the Fat Lady crumbled in a large explosion, with dust and debris flying over the banisters at either side of the stairs, and down seven storeys to the floor below. Harry was trapped in front of the Fat Lady with nowhere to run, his path blocked by the banisters. But then something came to him, something crazy, something insane._

_ He dashed towards the hooded figure, his heart beating rapidly within the constrictive confines of his ribcage. As he and the hooded figure drew closer Harry thought, for one fleeting moment, that he would pass straight through it as though the figure was made of mist. Wishful thinking, he thought as the figure outstretched a thin, bony hand and, with a sound like a firework, sent Harry careening backwards into the portrait of the Fat Lady, startling the woman as a shower of red and green sparks cascaded down upon Harry's head. He was heavily dazed. His vision was blurry, obscured. He kicked himself for not putting up as much of a struggle as he should have done, but what else could he have done? His powers were rendered completely useless in the dream world so it wasn't as though he would be able to defend himself. _

_Harry was growing more desperate by the second, and he was starting to look for possible ways of defence, or of escape. Then his mind turned to Ron. Harry had been saved when Oliver came into his dream, so why wouldn't it work if he brought Ron in this time? He squeezed his shut tightly, hoping against hope that Ron would come bursting into his dream and fend off the hooded figure, which was now prowling ever-closer towards Harry. His heart skipped a beat as a bright, golden light appeared to the side of the banister, a light so bright that it shone straight through Harry's eyelids. Without a second thought, Harry was opening his eyes and back up on his feet. He noticed that the hooded figure was distracted, its attention drawn to the source of pure, brilliant gold. Fumbling around in his pockets, Harry felt his wand sticking out of the fabric. Luck was finally on his side. He grabbed his wand and pointed directly at the hooded figure, who turned back to face him, the same evil glint in its eyes._

_"_STUPFEY!_," Harry screamed._

_A jet of red light issued from the end of Harry's wand and zoomed through the air towards the hooded figure, hitting it squarely in the chest and sending it crashing back down the stairs and out of sight. Harry sighed in his moment of peace; it appeared as though the hooded figure was gone. The gold light at the side of the staircase was still there, and was growing into a large oval, with a dark room visible in the centre. Harry's period of relaxation was short-lived, however, when he noticed who, and what, was in the room. How it was possible, Harry didn't know, but it horrified him._

_He peered through the golden vortex at the scene in front of him. Ron was unconscious and tied down with thick black belts in a chair, with the hooded figure standing directly over him. For the first time, Harry could see that the figure was smiling. It was a cruel, unmerciful smile, one with such evil and ferocity that it turned the contents of Harry's stomach to ice. A loud clattering from down the stairs told him that the figure who had attacked him in his dream was making its way back up the stairs towards him. Without a second thought, Harry vaulted the banister and dived head-first into what must have been Ron's dream._

_Passing through to another person's dream was an extremely peculiar experience. It felt as though Harry was moving through something thin and translucent, like he was moving through water. What was even stranger was that when he finally emerged from the substance, and clattered onto the floor of the room in Ron's dream, he was soaked all through his clothes._

_The room was dimly-lit. It resembled a dungeon more than anything, but it had an even tenser atmosphere than what could be expected from a dungeon. Several old, rusty axes were lined along the dusty cracked walls. Several torches were held in place on the wall by worn brackets. Ron was struggling violently in his chair, trying to free himself from the monstrous figure._

_The hooded figure turned to gaze directly at Harry, a vicious snarl curling upon its thin lips, which sent shards of icy fear stabbing into his back. It seemed to have anticipated Harry's arrival and, with a wave of a very frail and skeletal hand, sent Harry hurtling across the room. As he sailed through the air, he caught his arm on one of the axes, splitting his skin and causing vast amounts of fresh warm blood to flow down onto the floor as he collided with the cold wall behind and crumpled to the floor, his clothes now soaked in the deep crimson fluid. Harry yelped in pain as the wound began to sting and burn. He lay there on the floor, panting in agony and racking his brains to find a way to fight back without having his powers available._

_Cackling with a loud, deep voice, the figure strode over to Harry, the same evil glint present in its vicious red eyes. For the first time in six years, Harry's head almost exploded. The scar on his forehead was burning, the searing pain almost becoming too much to bear. It fogged his vision, blurred everything around him. His eyes streamed as he succumbed to the pain. Ron was screaming Harry's name, muffled behind a black gag. As Harry was just about to pass out, he heard a whooshing sound in the room, followed by a loud splash as wet clothes hit the stone floor, and then several voices screaming the same spell at the exact same time:_

_"_Tueri Vinculum!_"_

_There was an explosion like a cannon, and four jets of bright golden light soared through the air towards the hooded figure and hit it directly in the stomach. The dungeon was illuminated in an intense light that burned the backs Harry's of eyes. He looked up through misty eyes to see the outlines of Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, as well as Oliver and Hermione, striding across the room towards the doubled-over figure. Dumbledore outstretched a hand with the intention of revealing who the figure really was but, as he did so, the figure disappeared in a thick black fog, particles of dust and debris scattering around the room. For the first time in his life, Harry heard Dumbledore mutter an obscenity, one which gave Professor McGonagall a rather large shock, judging from her reaction of 'Albus!'._

_"Ron!" Harry heard Hermione wail, "Are you alright?"_

_Harry felt a rough hand tap him on the face, but he couldn't make sense of anything, and the tapping only exacerbated his dazedness. Eventually, he heard an amazingly comforting voice mutter the word '_Enervate_' and soon found himself clear-headed, his vision unobstructed. He was pulled into the strong arms of Oliver, and found himself being rained down upon with kisses by the frantic coach, who had obviously been at his wits end with worry as fresh tears began to stream down his face._

_"Never do that to me again!" Oliver sobbed into Harry's shoulder, "I thought I'd lost you! From now on, you're not using your powers, at least until we can get this whole mess fixed! I'm not having you fall asleep, only for you to die!"_

_Harry gazed up into Oliver's glistening hazel eyes and brought a hand up to stroke the cheek of his face._

_"I… I thought I'd lost you, too… Oliver… I love you so much…" Harry whispered as he brought his face up to meet Oliver's._

_They began to kiss, even more passionately than they ever had done before. Neither of them wanted to let go, for both of them feared that they would lose the other. Deeper and deeper they kissed, with their tongues darting around each other's mouth in a haphazard manner, desperate to claim back the territory that they had both considered gone. A sharp cough from Professor McGonagall told them that they ought to stop, and so they did, begrudgingly. Harry was about to protest Professor McGonagall's intrusion but then realised that it would feel so much better to kiss Oliver when they were out of the dream._

_"If you're quite finished," said Professor McGonagall sternly, "we need to find a way to get out of this God-forsaken place."_

_"It's a very simple thing, Minerva," said Dumbledore, "to get out of a dream. All you need to do is merely wish that you were out of the dream, and then you will wake up."_

_"Professor, you think I haven't already wished to be out of these types of dreams?" Harry said, "What if we can't get out of these types of dreams because the Nocturnimagus is stopping us?"_

_Dumbledore and McGonagall looked worried. It was clear to Harry that they hadn't anticipated him, or the others, knowing about the existence of Nocturnimagi. They both knew that they would have to explain to Harry and the others what exactly a Nocturnimagus was._

_"We leave together," said Dumbledore, "On the count of three, visualise yourself leaving the dream. One… two… three!"_

_Harry closed his eyes and visualised himself leaving the dream through a whirl of cold, white mist, with Oliver by his side. Instead, however, he felt himself drifting daintily through the air as the room began to dissolve in a brilliant mix of a myriad of colours, with Oliver clinging to his arm as they left the dream…_

Harry woke with a start. He sprang up in his hospital bed. How did he get here? His arm was hurting where he had caught it on the axe and there was a bandage around the wound, with a large spot of blood visible through the fabric. He must have been in the hospital wing. The all-too-familiar sound of Madame Pomfrey rushing around outside the horrible mouldy-yellow curtains that were drawn shut around the bed. There was a small gap in the curtains that let Harry see out into the hospital wing, though it was only a thin line that he could see through. Through the small crack in the curtains, Harry could just make out Oliver's bare back facing him. Oliver was laid on the bed adjacent to Harry's. The urge to run out from behind the curtains and dive on top of Oliver was overwhelming and, pushing his bruised body up from the hospital bed, he charged out from behind the curtains and threw himself on top of Oliver, who groaned loudly, coughing and spluttering as he fought to catch his breath after the sudden weight crashed down upon his torso. The high pitched shrieks of Madame Pomfrey and Hermione echoed around the nearly empty

"B-blimey, Harry!" he spluttered, gasping for breath, "It's good to see- mmm!"

Oliver was cut short as Harry's lips claimed his own in an enchanting kiss. Passion flared between the two boys as their tongues became engaged in a furious battle. But once again they were thwarted when the shrill sound of Professor McGonagall's forced cough told them to stop.

"Gentlemen, please, this isn't the time nor the place," she said, her eyes distant and wide.

"Sorry, Professor," Harry apologised as he climbed off Oliver, "It's just that I thought I'd lost Oliver. Wait, how did we get here?" Harry frowned in confusion. He had passed out in the library, and then woken up in the hospital wing. "What happened?"

"When you passed out, Harry," Hermione began, "I looked at the book and saw that the page it landed on just happened to be about the very thing that was stalking us in our dreams. It's called a Nocturnimagus. But a Nocturnimagus is not a creature, it's actually a human, a human with both a nocturnal consciousness and a diurnal consciousness. They have the ability to control anybody's dreams, as well as causing the dreams to have effects on the victims' bodies. Sound familiar?"

"Wait, so you're telling me that there's someone at Hogwarts who has the ability to control our dreams?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying, Harry. But a Nocturnimagus can only affect its victims if it's in the vicinity of them, at least until it grows in strength. And if I may say so, Professor," Hermione looked at Dumbledore, who nodded, "I believe that it's the work of someone who recently joined the school."

Ron was wide awake, with several scratches on his face from where the Nocturnimagus had ran its long sharp fingernails down it in the dream. One arm was strung up in a sling, and his left eye was heavily bruised.

"That seems highly likely, Miss Granger. But I must ask all of you to not mention this to anybody else. We cannot afford for this to get out and cause a panic. That is the reason why I simply brushed Coach Snortson's attack aside; I didn't want the students to know that there was a Nocturnimagus at Hogwarts. The resulting panic would have thrown the entire school into chaos."

Professor McGonagall was taken aback at this revelation.

"Albus!" she said, "Why didn't you tell us? We're your members of staff!"

"Again, I didn't want to create a mass panic. And I had already worked out that one of the members of staff was a Nocturnimagus."

They sat there for quite some time discussing Dumbledore's motives behind keeping the Nocturnimagus a secret. Harry's head was swimming with questions. Why was the Nocturnimagus after his powers? Why was it trying to kill his friends? Why, in particular, had it chosen to attack Coach Snortson? But what seemed to be the most bizarre thing of it all was that Dumbledore and McGonagall seemed to know exactly what they were talking about, even more than they were letting on. Despite Harry's frequent protests at being kept in the dark about such a serious matter, the two teachers were still adamant on keeping the information from Harry. But why? Eventually they left the hospital wing, with Harry, Oliver, Ron and Hermione staying behind with Madame Pomfrey, who kept scurrying around the ward and handing out different potions.

It had only just occurred to Harry who was lying in a bed at the far end of the room; Coach Snortson. She was pale, looked dead, but Harry could see that she was still breathing, much to his relief. She was in a coma.

"Harry," Hermione whispered and pulled a thick leather book out from her bag, "I took this from the library."

It was the book that had told them about the Nocturnimagus. Harry snatched it out of her hands eagerly.

"Dumbledore told me to put it back once he saw it," Hermione's expression was serious, "But when he wasn't looking I put it in my bag. He's hiding something more than he's letting on, Harry, and we need to work out what it is."

"So we _should_ tell other people about the Nocturnimagus?" Oliver asked.

"No. At least, not yet, anyway."

"What's the point in hanging around? You're not waiting for something to happen are you?" Ron had finally decided to join the conversation.

"Of course not!" said Hermione indignantly, "How could you think that? I'm simply suggesting that we keep things on the low down so that we can do some more investigating without people getting in our way. And _don't_ fall back to sleep!" she added as Ron's head drooped towards his pillow.

Ron jerked upright once more. He was visibly exhausted.

Harry looked down at the brown leather book. It was rather clean for a book that had been on one of the dustiest shelves in the library. The title read:

_Magi of the Ancient World by Florence Potterwood_

The sky outside was beginning to flush a deep rose, and the vivid yellow sunlight streaked in through the windows, illuminating the walls and floor, and casting shadows of the beds and curtains across the room. Harry prised the book open and flicked through the pages until he found the one that he had been looking for. Glaring at him from the double-paged section was a menacing, black-cloaked-and-hooded figure, with evil red eyes and a thick black mist billowing out from behind it, the small wisps tracing a path up the pages. A bold title of 'Nocturnimagi' headed the page. Each corner of the page had some form of swirling energy, and then Harry realised what they were; fire, water, wind and earth. They all seemed to flow inwards and behind the hooded figure. Clear blue liquid, bright orange flames, fluorescent green leaves and light grey clouds all gathered together in the centre behind the figure.

"Come and see this!" Harry called.

Oliver, Ron and Hermione scurried over to see what Harry was looking at.

"Harry, that looks like-" Oliver began.

"My elemental powers, yeah."

"Well don't just sit there, read it!" Hermione urged.

Harry started to read the first paragraph of the section.

_'Back in the 5__th__ Century, the Nocturnimagi were one of the most feared types of Magi in the world. Born with their powers, the Nocturnimagi plunged the wizarding world into chaos with their reign of terror. Their dream-control powers drove much of the wizarding community to insanity with horrific nightmares. That is, those that weren't killed first. Nocturnimagi were able to torture and kill their victims in their dreams without leaving a single trace of them ever being responsible for the attacks, but with all the evidence of an attack or murder taking place. More so was their uncanny ability to maintain two entirely separate personalities, with each of them being aware of the existence of the other. The Nocturnimagi would use one personality in their dreams, and they would use another personality whilst they were awake. Their nocturnal and diurnal personalities were so differential that it became almost impossible for regular witches and wizards to identify a Nocturnimagus. Whilst they were attacking people, Nocturnimagi took on the form of a black-cloaked, hooded figure, and gave themselves red eyes so as to instil fear and desperation upon their would-be victims. As more witches and wizards feared them, they grew in strength. They particularly attacked the more vulnerable of the wizarding population, especially children and youngsters who were easy targets due to their emotionally fragile natures.'_

"So that's what the Nocturnimagi is trying to do," Harry concluded as he finished reading he paragraph, "It's trying to grow stronger."

"But I thought it only attacked children and youngsters to grow stronger," Oliver said.

"The book also says that it attacked those that were more vulnerable," Harry responded, "Look at Coach Snortson; she's got to be one of the most vulnerable people we know."

"I wouldn't say we 'know' her exactly," said Ron darkly, "More like 'she knows how to appear wherever we are'."

"That's not the point, Ron," said Hermione, "The point is, Harry's right. She's so shy and timid that anything would be able to affect her. I daresay that the fear she's giving the Nocturnimagi will be giving it quite a bit of strength. Harry, keep on reading."

"Alright."

_'A Nocturnimagus' ability to hurt its victims depended wholly on the fear that it had built up beforehand. When a Nocturnimagus first started to use its powers, it was only able to create fear by acting like a ghost; it could only hurt its victims in their dreams, there would be no effect on the victims' bodies in the real world. Once the fear began to grow, they were soon able to start physically hurting their victims. The damage caused started as simple scratches, but quickly escalated to major wounds and, in most cases,' _Harry swallowed hard, _'death.'_

They all turned their heads to face Coach Snortson.

"Y-you don't think that th-the Nocturnimagus w-will have en-enough p-power to k-k-kill yet, do you?" Ron quivered.

"It's hard to tell," Hermione said after a while, "We don't even know how much strength that the Nocturnimagus has. And now we definitely can't tell a single person about this. It'll only give the Nocturnimagus more strength."

"So we're stuck, then?" Oliver concluded, "We've got a Nocturnimagus on the loose, we're without the help of Dumbledore, and we can't tell anyone else because it'll only make the situation worse. Just fucking great! There's nothing we can do except wait for that thing to kill us!"

"There _is_ something that we can do!" Harry shouted gleefully and jumped up from the bed, "Listen to this!"

_'When the Minister for Magic at the time was attacked and killed in his sleep, the Ministry of Magic decided to take action against the Nocturnimagi. Because the Nocturnimagi's powers were wholly dark magic, there was no defence against them, until the Ministry discovered the many uses of,'_ Harry went silent as the others stood there with baited breath, _'love.'_

"Harry, that means-" Ron realised.

"It means," Harry interrupted, "that I'm able to stop it. But I don't know- oi!"

Oliver had taken the book out of Harry's hands and was scanning the page, reading the information out as his eyes navigated over the text.

_'Towards the end of the 5__th__ Century, the Ministry devised a plan to recruit those that had been affected by love, a power which was far more common back then than it is today, with the only recorded modern case of the power of love being invoked being that of Harry Potter.'_

"This book can't be that old, then," Hermione commented, "if it's got Harry's name in it."

"Yeah…" Oliver said, turning his gaze back to the book.

'_The Ministry of Magic gathered hundreds of love-bearers and trained them to fight the Nocturnimagi. It was several years before these new types of auror became much more proficient in defeating the Nocturnimagi, by which time around a third of the wizarding population, as well as one tenth of the Muggle population, had been eliminated. The large drop in numbers of the wizarding population led to the Nocturnimagi growing bored with magical victims, and turned to the Muddle population for sustenance. Without anything to defend them, they were dispatched in great numbers, but not before their fear could be extracted from them. This gave the Nocturnimagi power beyond even their wildest dreams. Eventually, the new aurors were able to decimate their numbers. Between 497 and 498 A.D. the numbers of Nocturnimagi plummeted dramatically from three million to a mere two hundred thousand. Fear of them dropped significantly, and soon they were forced back to their ways of attacking their victims in their dreams, even though it would have little effect in the real world. The Muggle world returned to normal after several of the new aurors Obliviated those that remembered the Nocturnimagi.'_

"So everything returned to normal?" Harry said, "I mean, they didn't really pose a threat anymore?"

"Actually, they found a way to come back," Oliver replied glumly and began reading the text again. The cruel snarl appearing across the Nocturnimagus' lips sent shivers down Oliver's spine.

_'At the end of the year 499, it appeared as though the Nocturnimagi had finally been vanquished. There were fewer than twenty Nocturnimagi left, and fear of them was reduced to near-zero. Children of the wizarding world were able to talk about them without fear of being killed that night, and the Muggle world had returned to the same state it had been before the uprising of the Nocturnimagi. However, the attacks left a lasting effect on both worlds. The Ministers for Magic and the Muggle leaders of each country agreed to stay in contact with each other, and still do to this day. But the remaining Nocturnimagi found a way to abuse the powers given to those who had the power of love on their side. They began to haunt them in their dreams and, while they may not have been able to attack or kill them, they were able to drive them to insanity and siphon their powers to use as their own. The power of freehand magic became theirs to use, both in the dream world and in the real world. The remaining Nocturnimagi grew stronger once again as the population of the wizarding world began to realise that they would no longer be protected by the love-bearers. Even though there were only twenty Nocturnimagi left, they were still able to do away with two thirds of the remaining wizarding population. Then the Ministry grew smart; they knew that it would be highly likely for the Nocturnimagi to make a return, and they recruited even more witches and wizards who had been affected by love. Only this time, they made sure that the recruits were in loving relationships, and that they held an unbreakable connection with their loved one. The Ministry used this connection to invoke the oldest form of pure magic, a power that had existed since the discovery of magic itself; Vinculum Duo.'_

"Vinculum Duo…" Hermione muttered, "I've heard that somewhere before…"

"Let me guess," said Ron, "More time in the library?"

Hermione shot him a dark stare. They had completely forgotten about Madame Pomfrey, who clattered around in her office at the end of the hospital wing. She walked out of the office holding a set a spare of bedpans.

"Are you still here? I thought you'd be down in the Great Hall for breakfast by now! Go on, scoot! It's 8:15!" she hurried towards them and herded them out of the sunlight-saturated hospital wing.

"As a matter of fact, Ron," Hermione replied as they walked out onto the cold fourth floor, "yes, it does mean more time in the library. We need to keep looking into this if we're going to put a stop to the Nocturnimagi."

Harry, Oliver, Ron and Hermione walked down the stone steps to the Great Hall, their stomachs groaning with hunger. The possibility of the Nocturnimagus gaining control of Harry's power terrified him, but he was given a slight bit of relaxation in the knowledge that if he stayed awake, he would at least be able to avoid surrendering his powers to it. But then his thoughts turned to the culprit. Who was the Nocturnimagus exactly, and why now, of all times, did they decide to make themselves known?


	20. Halloween Horror

**Chapter Twenty – Halloween Horror**

The exhaustion from the previous night had a profound effect on Harry's ability to concentrate during lessons. In Transfiguration, which at least managed to grab his attention, he found himself almost falling asleep on the table. After the events of the previous night, however, Professor McGonagall had decided to give he, Ron and Hermione leniency. Towards the end of the lesson she called the three of them up to the front.

"I've had a word with Professor Snape," she said glumly, clearly still disturbed by the return of the Nocturnimagus, "He has agreed to provide you with Dreamless Sleep potions. I have explained the current, ah, 'situation' to him and he has also agreed to be lenient with you in his lessons."

Harry thought he was hearing things. Snape? Lenient? Ron and Hermione must have had the same thoughts going through their heads because they glanced over at him in sheer shock when they heard of Snape's surprise generosity.

"S-sorry, Professor," Harry stammered, "But did you just say that Snape's giving us leniency?"

"Yes, Potter. I understand how strange it may be considering your past with _Professor_ Snape, but the fact of the matter is that he has agreed to be lenient. I suggest that you take advantage of his generosity," she added with what Harry swore was a wink, "You never know how long it will last. All I can say is that he has been in a rather happy mood over the last few days. He's even gone so far as to change his appearance."

"What about Oliver? Is he getting Dreamless Sleep potions, too?" asked Harry.

"Of course."

The bell rang to signal the end of Transfiguration. Harry, Ron and Hermione hurried out of the classroom and down to the dungeons for Potions with the Slytherins. The thought of Snape showing a pleasant side was a rather unnerving one for Harry. He'd always seen Snape as a cold and heartless teacher, one that took every opportunity available to make Harry and his friends' live hell. But nothing in the world could prepare him, or anyone else for that matter, for what lay ahead in Snape's 'dungeon'.

Lined along the once-grimy walls were now several bright yellow lanterns, a delicate flame fluttering around in an almost non-existent breeze. The dungeons had always been cold and draughty, but something had changed it. The walls had been painted a vivid lemon, and illuminated what was left of the dungeon's murkiness. Even the tables and chairs in the centre of the room were in eclectic colours. Red, blue, orange, purple; the whole spectacle was dazzling. But to top it all off, the man himself was stood at the front of the class in a revolting clash of colours. He was wearing a set of electric pink robes, with a lime green cloak trailing down behind him and splaying across the floor. His face seemed to have been contorted into a hideous smile, showing off his horrendously-yellow teeth. Had Snape gone completely insane?

"He's lost it," Hermione muttered in Harry's ear.

"You don't say!" Harry replied.

Ron was too busy guffawing like an idiot at the myriad of colours in the room with the rest of the Gryffindors to notice that the Slytherins were glaring at him, and that most of the class had already taken their seats. Harry and Hermione sat at a lime green table, with Hermione dragging a doubled-over Ron to his seat.

"Good morning class!" Snape shouted cheerfully, causing the hairs on the back of Harry's neck to stand on end, "Please take out your books, cauldrons and ingredients. Today, we'll be going over the Draught of Dreamless Sleep."

Harry's attention shot to the front of the class. He brought his head up so fast that his neck clicked, and he yelped as a sharp pain fired through his system.

"Are you alright, Harry?"

"Yeah, I'm fine thanks, Ro- _Professor_?!" Harry was thunderstruck as Snape came striding over to his table with a concerned look on his face, the lurid pink robes billowing out behind him. He looked to be carrying a small phial of pain-relief potion. What the hell was going on?

"Here, take this," Snape handed Harry the potion and waited for him to down it before taking the phial back to his desk and putting it in a drawer.

Ron and Hermione turned to look at Harry with dumbfounded expressions covering their faces.

"Don't even say anything…" Harry warned them.

They fought to hold back fits of laughter. As Harry looked around the blindingly bright dungeon, he noticed that the Slytherins weren't as provocative as they were before Draco was served with a lengthy sentence in Azkaban. There was only one Slytherin that even bothered making snide remarks to Harry, and even then they were nothing for him to be concerned about. It was the reactions that they gained from Snape that terrified Harry.

"Thirty points from Slytherin!" Snape scolded, "Any other instances of bullying in my classroom shall lead to a further fifty point deduction and a week's worth of detention. Vile behaviour…"

Harry's mouth gaped. That settled it; Snape really _had_ gone insane!

The Potions lesson that morning was by far the best that Harry had ever had at Hogwarts. For once, Snape seemed to be on his side, and was even going so far as to help him with his Draught of Dreamless Sleep. Although the Slytherins were nothing without their fearless leader, Malfoy, they still tried to bring Harry down, but it didn't work. Snape's ears were constantly on the alert for insults, and he was quick to make deductions from the houses of those that bullied someone. At least there seemed to be a part of Snape that never quite got away; he still found a reason to take points away, although the reasons were now a lot fairer. Despite this, Harry couldn't help but still feel uneasy around the suddenly-kind Professor. By the end of the lesson, Harry, Ron and Hermione had successfully been able to produce an exceptional Draught of Dreamless Sleep, with the help of Professor Snape who, to their utter amazement, gave them permission slips to sign the recipe out of the library, as well as permitting them to take their potions with them. It had been an incredibly bizarre Potions lesson, but Harry didn't want to leave; he was enjoying it far too much. But the bell rang, and the class made their way out into the dingy corridor and up to Charms. As Hermione reached the door to leave the dungeon, Professor Snape called her back and seemed to pull something from out of his fluorescent robes and handed it to her, but Harry couldn't see what it was. Deciding not to press the matter, he and Ron followed the class out into the corridor beyond. Thankfully, nothing in Charms had changed, and that was just the way that Harry liked it, but he couldn't deny the fact that Snape had improved dramatically. In fact, Harry was certain that he was beginning to like Snape, no matter how much the thought made him shudder.

Charms was a particularly interesting affair, simply because Harry was having to use his wand when he was practicing the particularly-difficult Disillusionment Charm. He ached to use his freehand abilities but he had a feeling that he would become the centre of attention if it came out that he was able to perform magic without a wand. But there plenty of other wizards who were capable of performing magic freehand, so why would it seem so out of place if Harry started doing it? Hermione must have seen the conflicted look on Harry's face as he was faced with the task of casting the spell on a wooden dummy, an exact replica of the ones that he had destroyed when he had shown Ron and Hermione his elemental abilities. So far he hadn't been able to get the exact accuracy as he would have liked, with the dummy emitting a dazzling light each time he tapped its head with his wand.

"Why won't the spell work!" Harry shouted in exasperation; Ron and Hermione seemed to have no problem in working the spell and were soon practicing it on each other, with good results.

"My boy!" Professor Flitwick said in his usual cheery manner, "It seems you aren't getting the correct concentration of magic! Focus on your power and direct it to the tip of your wand, and then tap the dummy on the head whilst saying the incantation '_Disullusio!_'" and then he flitted off to help Neville Longbottom, who also seemed to be struggling with this particular Charm.

"Might as well try, I suppose," Harry said to Ron and Hermione, with Hermione only half visible as the effects of Ron's Charm started to wear off.

He did exactly as he had been instructed, but he couldn't quite get the focus of power into the wand as he needed.

"What does it matter," Harry said to Ron and three quarters of Hermione, "if people find out that I'm a freehand?"

"You'll draw a lot of unnecessary attention to yourself, for one," Hermione said reprovingly as her shins reappeared.

"Attention? How would I draw attention to myself?"

"It's normally only fully-fledged witches and wizards who are able to perform freehand magic; it takes years to properly control it, which means that it would look really odd if a seventeen year-old was able to perform it."

"Oliver's able to do it, and he's only twenty-one," Harry said matter-of-factly, "I've seen it for myself. And, according to him, he's been able to do it since he left Hogwarts."

"But he still uses a wand for most spells," Hermione countered, "He isn't suspicious because he isn't able to exercise total freehand magic yet."

"Who's to say that I'm planning on using freehand magic all the time?" Harry said with a tone of finality in his voice.

"You can do freehand magic?!"

Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan were standing right next to Harry and the others. How had Harry been so careless as to let his abilities slip?

"Kinda…"

"Nice!" Dean said, "How do you do it? Is it easy? Does it have any side effects?"

"I'm not entirely sure," Harry admitted, "I only really found out I could do it just after we came back. But I think I've got the hang of it pretty quickly."

"So… do you think you'd be able to teach us?" Seamus asked.

"I don't really know how it works. Like I said, I've only really just started using it myself."

"Oh," Dean and Seamus said glumly, "Alright, then."

They turned back round to their dummy and started practicing the Charm again, which they succeeded at.

Harry slid his wand back inside his robes and focussed on the dummy in front of him. Alright then, he thought to himself, this ought to be easy enough now that I can finally get the accuracy I need.

He could feel his magical core swirling around inside him, sending gentle sparks of power jolting through his system. It excited him as he realised that he was performing freehand magic out in the open; somehow, he felt free. Harry could feel Seamus' and Dean's eyes boring into the back of his skull as they stopped what they were doing in order to watch Harry perform the Charm. Apparently, news spread fast when it reached Dean and Seamus for now everyone in the class had turned their heads to watch Harry, and he suddenly felt incredibly self-conscious. Professor Flitwick had abandoned his attempts at helping Neville after he had been sent hurtling across the classroom after a small explosion erupted from the end of Neville's wand, and the tiny teacher had now joined the rest of the class in watching Harry.

Harry returned to focussing on his magical core, ignoring the penetrating stares flying at him from all directions. He could feel a slight tingling sensation starting to ripple through his body. A greater sense of power and accuracy filled Harry's body. He directed the power towards his hands, and slapped a finger down on the top of the dummy's head. To his astonishment, not only did the dummy become chameleon-like, it disappeared fully; not even the outline of the dummy was visible. Harry prodded the wood just to make sure that he'd performed the correct Charm, and hadn't inadvertently Banished it to another part of the country. Luckily, he could feel the cold wood as he jabbed at the dummy. The room around him burst into rapturous applause.

"Well done, Mr. Potter!" Professor Flitwick beamed, "I had no idea that someone as young as yourself would be able to perform such an advanced piece of magic, let alone freehand! Fifty points to Gryffindor!"

Just then, the bell to signal lunch went, and Harry, Ron and Hermione, along with rest of the class, filed out of the room chatting enthusiastically about Harry's freehand abilities.

"It's good thing you didn't tell them about your elemental powers, mate," Ron commented, "Otherwise they'd be having you make it snow in June or something."

Harry chuckled at the thought of a very confused Hogsmeade at the sight of snow in the middle of summer.

"Not to mention your telekinesis, Harry," Hermione added, "They'd have you lugging all their things around with you."

They made their way down to the Great Hall, their stomachs rumbling and grumbling. The activities of the morning had driven thoughts of the Nocturnimagus from their minds, but their attention was soon brought back to it when Oliver joined them as they began to tuck into a lunch of lamb casserole.

"Have any of you noticed something… strange… about Snape lately?" he asked as he spooned casserole onto a plate.

"Oh!" said Harry, "You mean the fact that he's walking round wearing robes that look as though they've just came straight out of Dobby's wardrobe? Or the fact that he was quick to defend me in Potions? Or that he's started to act fairly towards everyone? Not to mention the fact that he's letting us brew Dreamless Sleep potions out of class, as well as giving us permission slips to sign the recipe out of the library? Oh, and I completely forgot about him giving me pain-relief potion in class when I pulled my neck."

Oliver looked thunderstruck.

"No way! Snape? Being _kind_?! Wait… what do you mean 'robes that look like they've just came out of Dobby's wardrobe'?"

Harry, Ron and Hermione told him about Snape's complete overhaul of the dungeon. When they had eventually finished telling him about the myriad of colours that drowned out any form of darkness, Oliver simply sat in his seat, wide-eyed.

"I was talking more about Snape seeming happier today but… your story is really creepy…" he said after a while.

"No kidding," Ron responded, "By the way, Oliver, when's the next practice session on?"

"I'm not too sure. With all this Nocturnimagus business going on I haven't really been able to plan ahead. Not that we're in trouble with the Quidditch yet, anyway. Slytherin are in last, Ravenclaw are in third, Hufflepuff is in second, but we're _really_ far ahead."

"I don't think that that's any excuse to relax," Hermione said tartly, "For all you know, Slytherin could make a huge comeback."

"Hermione," Ron frowned, "Are you saying you hope Slytherin improve?"

"Of course I'm not!" Hermione said, affronted, "How could you think that? Look, all I'm saying is that there's every possibility that Slytherin could find a way to make a comeback. That's it."

Ron glared at her. It made Harry wonder how they were even still going out at the rate they bickered at. It was becoming quite a common occurrence.

"So, anyway," Oliver said hurriedly, eager to change the subject as he sensed the mounting tension, "How are you all looking forward to the Halloween dance?"

The notion of the Halloween dance had slipped completely from Harry's mind. The appearance of the Nocturnimagus had shook the mere thought of Halloween festivities from his mind.

"I'm really looking forward to it," Hermione smiled, "I'm finally going to get this lead-footed buffoon to dance," she added, nudging Ron in the ribs.

"Yeah, yeah, course you will," he replied and pecked her on the cheek, causing her to blush a deep red.

Harry and Oliver gave each other incredulous looks. Ron and Hermione had been fighting one minute and then head over heels the next. What the hell was going on at Hogwarts? The Nocturnimagus they could handle, but they just didn't know how to approach a situation where a boyfriend and girlfriend would be at each other's throats one minute, and then be lovey-dovey the next. It only went without saying that the entire Snape affair was by far the most bizarre thing that Harry had ever experienced. The new Snape's choice of clothes made Neville's Boggart seem highly fashionable. At least Neville's Boggart didn't blind you when you looked at it, Harry thought to himself as he finished off his casserole.

"I take it you two are going together?" Hermione asked Harry and Oliver.

"Naturally," Oliver smiled, "What use is a keeper without his seeker?" he added and kissed Harry on the cheek, who blushed.

"Oliver," Harry chuckled, "not in front of everyone else. There'll be plenty of time for that later."

"That reminds me," said Oliver, "We'll be able to do our 'thing' as much as we like now that you can brew the Dreamless Sleep potion. We'll be able to return to our normal sleep pattern."

"It's not as though there was much of a disturbance to it anyway, Oliver," said Hermione, "Doesn't it strike you as a bit odd that as soon as a Nocturnimagus shows up we get given potions to stop us from dreaming? It's like they've anticipated this. But we know for a fact that Dumbledore's hiding something, and we need to know what it is."

"The only question is: how are we going to find out what it is?" Oliver said, "It's not as though we can just slip a bit of Veritaserum into Dumbledore's morning goblet of pumpkin juice and then expect him to spill all of his secrets. For one, there'd be no way of us doing it without someone noticing. Not to mention the fact that if we _did_ do it there'd be a high chance that we'd be kicked out. No, it's not worth the risk. If we get kicked out who knows what could happen to the other students here? Remember, some of them might be being attacked by the Nocturnimagus but aren't telling anyone about it."

"Well we can't just go around telling people that it exists, remember," said Hermione, "We don't want to cause a mass panic."

"I don't think it's going to get to that stage just yet, anyway," said Harry, "Don't forget, we still have that lead on this whole 'Vinculum Duo' thing. Does that book say anything about what it is, or how it's used?"

"I don't really know," Hermione said as she reached into her bag, pulled out the heavy leather book and placed it on the table with a dull thud, causing the plates and cups to rattle in their places, "No, there's nothing here," she added after opening the book and turning to the correct page. The Nocturnimagus continued to glare at them as Hermione closed the book once more and popped it back into her bag.

"So, we're stuck?" Ron asked.

"Only for a short while," Hermione assured him, "I'm certain that there'll be books in the library that'll at least tell us what Vinculum Duo is."

"Then I guess we _will_ just have to keep going to the library," Harry concluded, "At least we won't need to worry about the Nocturnimagus attacking us in our dreams; we have Snape to thank for that."

The next few days seemed to fly by, with the Halloween dance growing nearer and excitement beginning to mount. Although Harry and the others were determined to find out exactly what Vinculum Duo was, there were obstacles in their way that prevented them from being as efficient as they would have liked. Professors McGonagall and Flitwick were piling homework on their students, although Harry and the other two were granted leniency and were given slightly less homework than the others. But they were still inundated all the same. Oliver had been busy devising new tactics for the Gryffindor Quidditch team to use in the upcoming match against Slytherin on the 1st November. At least Harry and Ron would be able to relax slightly in that department; miraculously, Slytherin _still_ hadn't recruited a new seeker, and were having to resort to using volunteers from their house. This had been one of the main reasons as to why they were beaten by Ravenclaw in the first match of the season; they had had to take a second-year Slytherin on because no students in their house who were good at the game had volunteered. The team's new captain had been quick to remove the second-year from the team, and was now growing desperate to find a permanent seeker to replace Malfoy, to no avail. She scurried around the Slytherin table each and every morning, hoping to find at least one person who would be willing take on the role. But the expulsion and imprisonment of Malfoy had dampened the Slytherins' spirit, and they were no longer so eager to bully members of the other houses. In fact, many of them were beginning to try and get along with those from the other houses. It seemed as though the removal of Draco Malfoy had resulted in the breakdown of the very foundations of the Slytherin house structure, and Harry was glad that the Slytherins had finally seen the error of their ways.

As each day of lessons passed, Harry, Ron and Hermione made their way up to the library and started to search through every book they could find in order to work out what Vinculum Duo was. Oliver would wait for them outside of their classrooms sometimes if he found himself with free time, but this was becoming increasingly difficult since the first-years needed a Flying teacher, and Oliver had graciously volunteered to take up the position; he was tired of being left on his own during the day after he had finished preparing new plans and tactics for the team. Girls from all years were running around babbling incoherently about not being able to find someone to take to the Halloween dance, which annoyed Hermione to a great degree.

"What's so wrong with going to the dance on their own?" she cried in exasperation a few days before Halloween.

"Hermione, I don't think you're one to talk right now," Ron said smartly, "You're not exactly going on your own either."

"Yes, but… but…" she slumped back in her chair defeated.

The days continued like this until the night before Halloween, when Oliver found himself bombarded with questions he had never expected to hear.

"Ollie, will you go to the dance with me?"

"I've always had a thing for you, Ollie…"

"I need someone to go to the dance with…"

It appeared as though the girls at Hogwarts were beginning to grow desperate; they were asking an openly gay man to accompany them to the dance, and a taken man at that.

"Sorry, girls," Oliver apologised, "I'm already going with Harry. I wouldn't go with you even if I wasn't going out with Harry anyway, I'm gay and you all know it. Now shoo, before I take five points from Ravenclaw and Slytherin."

The girls' faces contorted with fury, and scorn. They stormed away in a huff, sending dark glances back in Oliver's direction. They looked as though they were about to explode with rage when Harry stuck his tongue out at them. He and Oliver burst into fits of laughter as the girls left the library and slammed the doors shut behind them, causing the glass in the pane to shudder violently. Ron and Hermione, having been shoved out of the way as the girls stormed out of the library, entered through the rattling door and gazed over at Harry and Oliver, who were now bent double with laughter.

"What's so funny?" Hermione asked as she and Ron pulled chairs up to the table and sat down. She started rummaging through her bag and pulled out a bottle of ink, some parchment and a quill. Professor Flitwick had given them a twelve inch essay on the benefits and limitations of using the Fidelius Charm, and Harry and Ron were yet to start it. It appeared as though Hermione had already completed seven inches.

"Just some girls thinking I'd go to the dance with them," Oliver chuckled as his fits of laughter died down, with Harry also calming himself; Madame Pince was shooting piercing glances over at them from the librarian's desk.

"Mad, the lot of them…" Ron was shaking his head in disbelief, "Any luck with the whole Vinculum Duo thing?"

"Nothing yet," said Harry, "But I'm starting to think more about the dance. After the last couple of weeks we've had I could do with some form of release."

"I thought you'd be getting some 'release' from Oliver, Harry," Ron winked.

Harry and Oliver looked at each other.

"He's right you know, Harry," said Oliver, "We haven't slept together in almost two weeks. What's gotten into us?"

"Nothing's been getting into us, that's the problem," Harry smiled cheekily, "I guess we'll just have to make up for it tomorrow."

"Why not tonight?" asked Oliver flirtatiously.

"Because I've got way too much homework to do," Harry replied flatly, "I promise that we'll get our 'release' tomorrow, right after the dance," he added and pecked Oliver on the cheek.

The entire school was abuzz with an air of excitement as the Halloween dance grew closer. It was only two hours until the Great Hall would be opened, and the festivities could begin. The girls that had tried to get Oliver to take them to the dance seemed far from content with the dates that they had found; a small, mousey-haired boy with too many freckles and crooked glasses, and a tall, gangly-armed boy with an square head and very little neck.

A sudden feeling of guilt washed over Harry as he realised who was taking giant carved pumpkins through the doors and into the Great Hall; since he had arrived back at Hogwarts, Harry had not even thought about visiting Hagrid in his cabin. When Hagrid came back out of the Great Hall Harry, Ron and Hermione walked up to the half-giant, with Oliver following nervously behind. Hagrid saw them approaching.

"Alrigh', Harry, Ron, Hermione?" he asked cheerily, "I ain't seen yer aroun' fer a while! An' who do we 'ave 'ere?"

"Hi, Hagrid!" Harry smiled, "This is Oliver Wood. You might've seen-"

"Ah, yeah! I remember. I 'ope yer've bin treatin' Harry righ'?" he said to Oliver in a warning, yet welcoming voice. He sounded almost father-like, "Why don' yer all come down ter me hut an' we can 'ave a nice chat, eh?"

Oliver glanced at Harry unsurely.

"Don't worry, Ollie," Harry said and pecked him on the cheek, "Once he sees how happy you make me, he'll welcome you like one of the family."

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver followed Hagrid down to his hut, each of them having to jog to keep up with his gigantic strides. He led them into his hut. Lined along the walls were all manner of fur coats, hats and scarves, all of them looking as though they were five times as large as Oliver. In the kitchen was a long line of dirty dishes and cups, with pots and pans hung along a metal rail above the sink. Hagrid's huge grey boarhound Fang bounded over to Oliver as they walked in and sat down on one of the too-large, too-squashy armchairs and proceeded to lick every inch of Oliver's face, dripping saliva all down the front of his robes. Oliver cried out in disgust.

"I think 'e likes you, Oliver!" Hagrid said gleefully as the huge dog slobbered all over Oliver's robes.

"I think so, too," Oliver chuckled and started scratching Fang behind his ears, "This is quite a place you've got here, Hagrid."

Harry could tell that Oliver's statement, complement or not, had made Hagrid blush because the small crinkles at the edges of his beetle-like eyes flushed a deep shade of red. Hagrid wasted no time in asking how Harry and Oliver had met, and Harry had no problem in telling Hagrid about how he had came out at The Three Broomsticks, met Oliver in there, and started dating him by the end of the first coaching session. Hagrid seemed to swell with pride as he could see just how happy Harry was with Oliver.

"I'm really chuffed fer yeh, Harry," Hagrid said, wiping a golf-ball-sized tear from the corner of his eye, "An' you," he added as he turned to Oliver, "you make sure that yeh don't hurt Harry. If yeh do, yeh'll have me to answer to. Now come 'ere."

Hagrid swept Oliver from the over-sized armchair and hugged him tightly.

"H-Hagrid," Oliver spluttered, "You're ch-choking me!"

"Ah, sorry, Oliver," Hagrid said and he put Oliver back down, "Guess I got a bit carried away."

"I-it's fine," said Oliver as he gathered his breath, "Merlin, look at the time! It's almost half seven! The Halloween dance is supposed to be starting in fifteen minutes! We need to go and get ready!"

Already ten minutes late for the dance, Harry, Oliver, Ron and Hermione made their way down from the Gryffindor common room and into the Great Hall. They had completely forgot that they were supposed to be in costume; around them were all manner of different 'creatures'. Dean had dressed up as a Mummy, having finally gotten over his fear. Seamus had made a brave attempt at dressing up as a Banshee, with torn black robes, a set of false mouldy teeth, and a wiry black wig that hung down to his waist. There were others there dressed in a variety of costumes; werewolves, vampires and hippogriffs were among them. They felt as though they were trespassing.

The Great Hall looked exceedingly eerie; the pumpkins that they had seen Hagrid hauling inside earlier were the only source of light in the cathedral-like room, apart from the enchanted ceiling above that was covered in thick, black clouds, with several forks of lightning striking out every so often and the resulting light shining out over the heads of the hundreds of students, casting long, overt shadows up the walls. Gazing up at the high windows, Harry could see that the sky was the same ink-black and there were indeed signs of disturbance in the clouds above the castle that could only mean that a storm was on the way.

The four house tables had been pushed up against the walls and were now laden with all manner of food and drink, ranging from chicken legs to treacle tart, and pumpkin juice to butterbeer.

"Ooooh! Chicken!" Ron said and scurried towards the table to grab some food.

"Honestly, Ronald, what is it with you and chicken? Why don't you just go out with the chicken instead? We'll call it 'Chickron'!" Hermione laughed, with Harry and Oliver joining in.

"I think I like 'Romione' better," Ron said after swallowing a particularly large mouthful of chicken. He pecked Hermione on the cheek and then gasped as he looked at the front of the Hall.

There was a large stage there, much larger than the one that had been at WizenYouth, that spanned the entire width of the Hall. Several huge speakers towered way above the throng of students and blasted out music from the band on the stage; the Weird Sisters.

"I love the Weird Sisters!" Ron shouted over the cacophonous music. Harry didn't take too well to this particular number that the Weird Sisters were playing; to him it sounded as though someone had simply banged two guitars together and started rubbing the wires against each other. It made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"Alright, Harry!" a voice called from behind. It was Seamus, followed closely by Dean. They weaved their through the crowd towards Harry and the others, his long black wig flowing out behind him, catching Dean in the face as they traversed through the pack of students. Dean spluttered as he tried to remove the fake hair from his mouth, "Where are your costumes?"

"We forgot," said Harry.

"Forget? How could you forget?" said Dean.

"We've had our minds on other things," Ron replied.

"Like what?"

"For one thing, we've had so much homework to do that we've been really preoccupied," said Ron, "not to mention the fact that it's been really difficult for us to sleep, what with us being atta- OW!"

Hermione had stomped down hard on Ron's foot. Dean and Seamus walked away from them, a look of confusion enveloping their faces.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" Hermione shouted in his ear, "We can't tell _anyone_ about our dreams!"

"Oh, yeah," Ron muttered, "sorry."

The song changed to a slower number, one that made several couples on the dance floor move away from the middle of the room and take seats at the edge of the hall, but there were still a few couples remaining that continued to dance slowly in their places, Harry and Oliver, and Ron and Hermione among them. Dean and Seamus had moved to edge of the hall with the others, who sat watching as the rest of the students began to dance.

Oliver took Harry's hand in his own and led him to the slowly-emptying dance floor. Ron and Hermione were close behind.

"I don't know how to dance…" Harry said to Oliver with an embarrassed smile.

"It's alright," Oliver assured him with a beautiful smile, "I'll lead, you follow."

Oliver took Harry's arms and placed them around his neck. He placed his own hands on the Harry's hips, who blushed at the contact.

"It's really easy," Oliver said, "Just follow my lead."

Oliver started to dance in a slow motion, turning slightly as he gently twisted Harry towards his direction. Ron and Hermione were dancing nearby, smiling at them. Harry and Oliver smiled back. They were surprised at the amount of couples who were now evacuating the dance floor and heading towards the chairs at the edge of the hall. The only people dancing now were Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall, Snape (in lurid orange and green robes) and Sinistra, and Flitwick and Sprout. There were two other student couples dancing, and Oliver recognised them immediately as the girls that had tried to ask him to the dance the previous night. He couldn't help but feel concerned slightly as they cast scathing looks across the hall towards him, and Harry in particular. Oliver frowned back at them in return, as though protecting something important from danger, when in actuality he was doing exactly that. Something about those girls made the hairs on the back of Oliver's neck stand on end. He ignored the feeling; he wanted to focus his attention on Harry, who seemed to be finally getting the hang of dancing. Harry was gazing up into Oliver's shimmering hazel eyes, his own emerald eyes seemingly dull and shallow when compared with the entrancing depth of Oliver's. Before he could think about what he was doing, Harry had pressed his lips against Oliver's in a sweet kiss.

Harry was beginning to think less about the Halloween, and had started to focus more on Oliver's astonishing beauty, his chiselled features highlighted to perfection as the subtle glow of the pumpkins cast a gentle orange light around the room and glinted in Oliver's crystalline eyes. Once again Harry's lips brushed over Oliver's own. The sound in the room seemed to die out as they both became lost in the moment and pulled each other's crotches together, their cocks rubbing gently through the fabric of their trousers. A sudden spark of excitement rippled through their bodies as they realised that what they were doing could have been seen by anybody. At that precise moment in time, and Harry had no idea why, he felt the need to take Oliver there in the middle of the dance floor, but he had soon changed his mind once he saw the uncomfortable look that had covered Oliver's face.

"Shall we take this upstairs?" said Harry seductively.

Without a single word, or a look back at Ron and Hermione, Oliver had grabbed Harry by the wrist and pulled him through the throng of students, out through the double doors and into the entrance hall. Expecting to head up to Gryffindor Tower, Harry made in the direction of the Grand Staircase, but was stopped by a mischievous-looking Oliver, who now resembled a naughty schoolboy instead of a handsome young man.

"Come with me," he winked.

Harry, who assumed that Oliver was taking him to his living quarters instead of Gryffindor Tower, followed him out of the entrance hall and into the crisp autumn night air. The sky above looked rather unsettled, with thick black clouds covering virtually all of the vast expanse of blackness. A spot of dull light lingered in the sky where the moon was struggling to fight through the clouds. A light wind rustled through the trees of the Forbidden Forest and swept up the lawns towards the castle, giving Harry and Oliver a pleasurable feeling of coolness after the rather-humid conditions inside the Great Hall.

"This way," said Oliver as, to Harry's confusion, he walked in the opposite direction to his living quarters; he was now heading down to the Quidditch pitch.

Harry walked with him, but kept quiet as they walked down to the dark pitch.

"Ollie, where are you taking me?" Harry asked.

"The first place we made love," Oliver smiled.

They made their way across the pitch and into the Gryffindor changing rooms, which Oliver always had the key to.

"_Colloportus!_" Oliver muttered and pointed his wand at the door, which locked with a dull click behind them. With another wave of his wand, Oliver conjured several candles and ignited them, levitating them in the air with a final flourish.

Harry and Oliver wasted no time in getting down to business. They held each other and kissed passionately, their tongues darting in and around their mouths, claiming as much of each other as they could. Continuing to kiss with fiery passion, Harry gripped the end of Oliver's shirt and pulled it up and over the older boy's immaculate bronze skin, the coach's Quidditch-defined abs and pecs rippling in the subtle glow of the candlelight. Harry and Oliver gazed into each other's eyes with longing; they hadn't made love in two weeks and it was starting to drive them crazy. Hunger fuelled their desire for each other as they tore away the rest of their clothes from their bodies.

"I love you, Ollie…" Harry whispered, "I love you so much…"

"I love you, too, Harry…" said Oliver, "I've waited two weeks for this. I want you so bad…"

They brought their lips together in another enchanting kiss. Harry could feel himself becoming light-headed like he always did when he and Oliver kissed. It felt so right and uplifting that Harry was feeling as though he feet were leaving the ground.

"Harry!" Oliver shouted in shock, "You're flying!"

"What?!"

Harry's mouth dropped as he looked down at his feet. They were dangling inches above the ground, his entire body suspended in midair.

"H-how are you doing that?!" Oliver asked incredulously.

"How should I know?"

"Well, is there any way that you could try to come back down? Could you try and do what you normally do with your elemental powers? You know, visualise yourself coming back down?"

"I'll try," said Harry.

He shut his eyes and tried to visualise himself drifting back down to the ground. Just as the thoughts entered his head, he felt himself become suddenly heavier, as though someone had dropped a large slab of concrete in his stomach. Without any way of controlling his descent, Harry dropped to the hard floor, bruising his knees as he made contact with the cold stone, a cloud of dust and dirt billowing upwards and covering Harry's naked body. Oliver rushed up to him, a look of concern enshrouding his face.

"Harry, are you alright?" he fretted as he lifted Harry to his feet. The younger boy trembled slightly on his injured knees, "Let's take a look at those knees. Yeah, they're just bruised. Come on, let's get you cleaned up."

Draping one arm over Oliver's shoulder for support, Harry hobbled out of the dark changing room and into the showers. The showers were rather small considering the size of the Quidditch team. There were no more than five showers lined along a single wall in the room. Chipped and cracked plaster and tiles lined the walls as high as the ceiling, which wasn't very high up. A minute chandelier hung from the ceiling in the centre of the room and cast a barely-noticeable orange glow around the room.

"It's not much, but-"

"It's perfect," Harry muttered as he crashed his lips down upon Oliver's in a fiery kiss, "Turn the showers on."

Oliver flicked his wand at a chain that was on the other side of the room. Harry watched as the chain was slowly pulled down by an invisible force. The pipes in the walls moaned as hot water began to rush through them. Five hot jets of water start pouring out of the showerheads soon after.

"Come here," Oliver said gently and pulled Harry into the soothing warm embrace of the water, "Let's get you nice and clean."

Without a sponge and soap to stroke over Harry's body, Oliver had to make use of his hands in order to clean him. But Harry seemed unfazed by this; the prospect of Oliver touching all over his body made him feel incredibly excited, and this was soon made apparent by his hardening cock. Oliver grinned widely at Harry, who had turned a magnificent shade of magenta.

"Oh, baby, you don't need to be embarrassed," he chuckled as he started to gently press and caress Harry's shoulders and back, "We'll get to that after I've cleaned you up. I'm rather excited myself," he added as he tapped his own hard cock against Harry's firm arse cheek, a ripple of subtle pleasure tingling through his body at the contact. He suckled on Harry's neck, the younger boy shuddering as Oliver's tongue gently flicked over the surface of his skin.

Oliver, stood directly behind Harry, curled his arms under Harry's and started to stroke firmly at the younger boy's chest and pecs. Small gasps of pleasure escaped from Harry's mouth as Oliver stimulated every inch of his torso with his invigorating touch. Oliver continued to suckle on Harry's neck as he slowly edged his way down towards Harry's groin. Harry's breathing increased as Oliver began to press firmer into his muscles. Harry moaned loudly as Oliver's nimble fingers passed his throbbing cock and brushed gently over the sensitive head, and then down towards Harry's knees. Taking care not to hurt him, Oliver gently coaxed the rest of the dust and dirt from Harry's knees and legs. Now that he was finally clean, Harry whirled around to face Oliver. Their painfully-hard cocks throbbed against one another, the heads rubbing together gently as small ripples of pleasure coursed through their bodies. Their breathing ragged, Harry and Oliver resumed their kissing. Oliver cupped the side of Harry's cheek with one hand and lowered his other hand to wrap around the shafts of their cocks. The two boys shuddered at the contact as small beads of hot water cascaded down upon their bodies. Almost automatically, Oliver began to stroke their cocks together in a slow rhythm, and in no time at all was gaining hungry growls from Harry as the sensations thundered around their systems, their bodies threatening to let go. They continued to kiss hungrily. As the kissing deepened, and became more feverish, Oliver and Harry parted lips and buried their faces into each other's necks, gasping and panting as they toppled over the edge.

"O-Oliver… Ngh, I-I don't… I'm not gonna l-last…" Harry gasped, "Mmm… OLIVER!"

"I-I'm c-coming! GRAH, I LOVE YOU, HARRY!" Oliver screamed as their bodies let go together, several thick streams of pearl white cum erupting out of their painfully-hard cocks. They kissed and shuddered as their orgasms receded. What was strange was that neither of them felt even remotely tired. In fact, they felt even more energised than before. Two sexless weeks had led to only a couple of minutes of frotting, but Oliver wasn't finished with Harry just yet.

"I don't think so," Oliver whispered in Harry's ear as the younger boy made to leave the shower room, "I'm not done with you yet…" he added with another mischievous grin and pulled Harry back into his arms.

"Hm, I like the sound of that," Harry winked and grabbed Oliver's cock, which was now growing hard again, "_Lubrico!_"

His freehand abilities kicking in, Harry smothered Oliver's cock in lubricant. He waited with his back against the wall as the water continued to cascade down upon them. Using what was left of the lubricant on his fingers, Harry applied some to his waiting hole. In the last couple of weeks, Harry had managed to train himself to relax and constrict the muscles in his butt whenever he pleased. Oh, the fun he'd had with the end of his wand whilst he was alone…

"Oliver, I'm ready for you," Harry smiled as Oliver stepped through the wall of water and stood directly in front of him.

The kissing resumed, their tongues jabbing and poking at each other's mouth, locked in a furious battle.

"Do it…" Harry said breathlessly after he and Oliver released each other's faces.

Oliver used one of his muscular arms to lift one of Harry's legs up off the floor, granting him greater access to Harry's puckered hole. He placed the head of his now-throbbing cock at Harry's entrance and, giving a sharp push, plunged deep inside the younger boy, pressing directly against Harry's prostate. Harry gave a sharp yelp of immense pleasure.

"Y-yeah…" he panted as he wrapped both of his legs around Oliver's waist, "Give me m-more. P-pound me!"

Harry brought his lips up to meet Oliver's in a passionate and fiery embrace. They threw caution to the wind and kissed like they had never kissed before, the ferocity of the kissing almost sucking the very skin right off of their faces. Harry draped his arms around Oliver's neck and thrust his tongue deep into Oliver's mouth, moaning as he did so. Oliver's face screwed up and contorted as he continued to push in and out of Harry's tight hole, the insides of Harry's arse hugging Oliver's thick cock. It felt incredible; the hot splashes of the water raining down upon them, along with the overpowering sensations that were thundering through their systems as they made love beneath the shower, took them to a level of euphoria that they had not once experienced before.

Oliver felt the need for more and, pressing his hands flatly against the wall, he began to thrust with a rapidity that Harry was not accustomed to, but Harry went along with the ride anyway, screaming and hissing as Oliver consistently slammed against that one special spot inside his arse. Harry wailed and hollered as he became flooded with pleasure, the nerve endings all around his body screaming, every cell in his entire body threatening to explode. He had only just become aware of Oliver's hand on his hard cock. Before he knew it, a fresh wave of pleasure was sent rampaging around his system as his body finally gave up the struggle against the inevitable explosion of pearl-white cum. He lost control of his mind and body, letting them act of their own accord as the pleasure not only incapacitated his muscles, but turned his mind into a warzone as his common sense and his imagination melded into one, causing a slurry mess of yelps and screams to burst forth from his mouth. The most that Harry could do was to simply focus solely on the pleasure that continued to surge throughout his body. A low, rumbling growl erupted at the side of Harry's head and incomprehensible screams told him that Oliver had reached an unimaginable peak of pleasure; a hot gush exploded inside Harry and he felt the warm liquid fly out of his arse cheeks and splatter down both of his legs. The intensity of the orgasm became too much for the both of them, and they collapsed to the floor together, panting heavily and unable to breathe until a considerable amount of time later, the shower still turned on and sending torrents of water cascading down upon their spent bodies.

"Phew! Hermione and Ron will be wondering where we went!" Harry said to Oliver as they burst into the entrance hall through the large doube doors.

"I think they already have an idea, mate!" Ron chuckled as he and Hermione came running out of the Great Hall. They stopped in their tracks as they looked at Harry and Oliver; the two boys' clothes were severely askew, with Harry's tie being very uneven, and their hair being surprisingly wet.

"Are you allowed to use the changing rooms for 'that' sort of thing?" Hermione asked concernedly.

"Of course we are," Oliver said matter-of-factly, "At least I hope we are," he added with a chuckle.

The other three chuckled.

"Come on, you two," Hermione beckoned Harry and Oliver to the Great Hall.

"Do we have to?" Harry moaned, "We're both really tired now, and we just want to go to bed."

"Harry, just come in here with us," Hermione demanded, "There's only fifteen minutes left of the dance now, anyway. Can't you just see the end of it with Ron and I?"

"Fine," Harry sighed and walked into the Great Hall with Oliver in tow.

The Great Hall was still surprisingly full considering the time. With only fifteen minutes to midnight, it came as a complete shock that the majority of the students were still awake. But most of them appeared to have exhausted themselves from three hours of continuous dancing. There were, however, still a few couples who continued to dance, albeit unenthusiastically and full of lethargy. It seemed to be a rather inappropriate time for the Weird Sisters to play 'Do the Hippogriff' now that hardly anybody was interested in dancing anymore. But Oliver dragged Harry to the dance floor, intent on having one final dance with his boyfriend before heading off to bed. Harry and Oliver's movements were rather rigid, with little energy left in their body to exert the usual exuberance that 'Do the Hippogriff' required. The fifteen minutes passed quicker than anything that Harry had experienced, but he wasn't complaining. He, along with everybody else, began the trek across the Hall towards the giant double doors that were now wide open to allow fresh night air into the cathedral-like room. Beyond the doors leading out of the entrance hall Harry could hear the distant rumbles of thunder growing closer. Out of the high windows in the Great Hall, he could see that it had began to rain drops the size of Quaffles, several bright flashes of light announcing the arrival of what sounded like a particularly harsh, and violent, storm.

The sight that met them at the doors into the entrance hall was enough to turn the blood in their veins to ice; there, stood in the doorway, was an extremely evil-looking Coach Snortson, who appeared to be displaying a vicious smile. She was far from looking like her usual piggy self. In a low, growling voice that seemed all-too-familiar to Harry and the others, she addressed the students:

"The Nocturnimagi will return! The elimination of the final Bond has meant that you are no longer protected by your silly little Vinculum Duo! Use what you are about to see as a warning of what is to come in the very-near future!"

The voice trailed off. Coach Snortson opened her eyes widely, as though shocked, gasped loudly, followed by a blood-curdling scream, and was hurled high into the air. Many of the students screamed loudly. She levitated there, her glazed-over eyes fixed on everyone of the students and staff below. Then, with a sickening crack, her head twisted one hundred and eighty degrees. The throng of people stared for several moments, horror struck, at the levitating coach's contorted figure.

Then she flopped to the cold stone floor, wide-eyed and lifeless.


	21. Meeting the Grangers

**Chapter Twenty One – Meeting the Grangers**

Uproar. Anarchy. Chaos.

The hall was ringing with the shrill shrieks of the students in the hall as Coach Snortson's limp body lay in a heap on the stone floor, small flecks of blood dotting the area around her horrifically-contorted head. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver cast each other horrified glances as the reality of what had just happened began to set in; they'd just witnessed the Nocturnimagus become strong enough to kill. The Draught of Dreamless Sleep was now more important than ever in ensuring that they were safe whilst they slept, but the revelation that the Nocturnimagus had surpassed Vinculum Duo made Harry feel violently sick. The one chance that they had of getting rid of the Nocturnimagus was now useless. But despite this, Hermione was insisting that they keep on investigating what Vinculum Duo was exactly, just in case there was another way to stop the Nocturnimagus.

"Hermione, what's the point?" said Ron through the tumult, "What's the point in finding out what Vinculum Duo is if it's completely useless?"

"Honestly, Ronald, use your common sense," shouted Hermione as the cacophony in the Hall grew louder, "From what we've already read, Vinculum Duo is one of the most ancient forms of magic. That means that there's very little chance that it has actually been surpassed! It's highly likely that the Nocturnimagus was bluffing in order to get us off its back. I think it's frightened that it's actually _not_ strong enough to do as much damage that it's threatening to do."

"Just look at Coach Snortson!" Ron bellowed, the screaming in the hall drowning out nearly every other sound, "She's dead, Hermione! And you _know_ that it was the Nocturnimagus that did that!"

"SILENCE!" Dumbledore's magnified voice boomed throughout the hall. The noise died out instantly, "Heads of Houses, take your students to their house common rooms immediately!"

"Hufflepuff, follow me!" Professor Sprout called and led the Hufflepuffs to their common room.

"Ravenclaw, this way!" Professor Flitwick squeaked, with the Ravenclaw students pacing after him.

"Slytherin!" called Professor Snape who was still in his horrible orange-and-green robes, although his face was now rather pale as opposed to its flushed, happy appearance it had had in the Great Hall. He led the Slytherins down to the dungeons, many of them looking even more terrified and disturbed than the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws combines.

"Gryffindor students this way!" shouted Professor McGonagall, leading the rest of the students out of the entrance hall and up the Grand Staircase, with Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver following closely behind.

As they made their way up the stone steps towards the Grand Staircase, Harry glanced back to see Professor Dumbledore crouched low over Coach Snortson's body, inspecting it for signs of life. A pallid expression covered Dumbledore's elderly face as he stood back up from the corpse. He turned away from the corpse and waved his wand, causing a bright, wispy phoenix to burst from the end. He muttered something to the phoenix, then it was soaring out through the open double doors and into the now-stormy weather outside. Clashes of thunder could be heard from directly overhead, and raindrops the size of bullets were pelting the outer walls of the castle. Lightning bolts were erupting from the sky and striking the soaked grounds of Hogwarts, electrocuting any wildlife that may have been present when the strikes had hit. Despite the gale-force winds that were now shaking the foundations of the castle, the phoenix was still able to fly away from the castle without careening off course with each gust of wind, giving off a ghostly glow as it grew smaller and smaller. Dumbledore shut the double doors with another wave of his wand, a loud clang reverberating around the cathedral-like entrance hall. The din of the gale outside was reduced to a quiet whistling against the castle walls. Harry's last view of the entrance hall was a that of a very sullen-looking Dumbledore.

"You don't think that Dumbledore knows something, do you?" he whispered to Hermione as they, Ron and Oliver tailed the throng of students making its way up to the seventh floor corridor. The events in the hall had made a lot of the students very reluctant to talk, many of them seeming incredibly traumatised by the experience. There were, however, a few that were whispering to each other.

"Nocturnimagi? Where have I heard that before?" Harry heard Neville whisper to Parvati Patil.

"Snortson told that Swampstead woman about her having nightmares…" Lavender Brown was muttering to Ginny, "She said she woke up from one with a long cut on her arm. I heard her telling the Slytherin coach shortly before she went to the hospital wing. Of course, I didn't buy it one bit when Dumbledore tried to pass it off as a seizure. Look at my leg!" she added and lifted her robes when they reached the fifth floor landing to show a large graze going down the back of her leg, "I got this in a dream I had a few weeks ago. There was a person, or a thing, wearing a black cloak. It had-"

"Glowing red eyes? And when it talked it was more of a-"

"Growl…" Lavender and Ginny gasped in horror.

"It tried to k-k-kill me…" Lavender stammered, "I fell over and that's how I got my graze, but you woke me up before it managed to get to me. Every time it clears up, I have a dream the next night and the graze becomes fresh again. I was afraid to say anything in case nobody believed me."

Hermione, apparently having been listening to the conversations ahead, clapped a hand to her mouth.

"Harry," she gasped, "I think the others have already had dreams about the Nocturnimagus."

"You mean you know what Nocturnimagi are?" Dean said suddenly, and pretty soon the entire population of Gryffindor Tower had stopped on the seventh floor and turned to face the four of them.

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver gave each other warning glances; they now had no choice but to tell the others about the Nocturnimagus, especially if the other students were now having dreams about it.

"We'll tell you about it in the common room," said Harry, "Amortentia." The Fat Lady swung open, revealing the small crawlspace behind. One by one, the students began filing through into the warm, inviting common room, where a comforting fire crackled merrily in the grate. It offered no comfort to the distraught students now, however.

"So what are Nocturnimagi?" asked Neville as he sat down in one of the chairs next to the fire.

"That's easy, Neville," said Lavender, "If you break the word down into two parts, 'nocturni' and 'magi', you can work it out from there. 'Nocturni' is similar to 'nocturnal' which means during the night, and 'magi' is short for magic. In other words, it literally means 'night magic'. Am I right, Hermione?"

"Y-yes!" Hermione stammered at Lavender's sudden intellect, "Well done. But, of course, there _is_ more to it than that."

"Like with Metamorphmagi and Animagi, Nocturnimagi are able to change things the way they like? I'm guessing that Nocturnimagi are able to manipulate people's dreams?" Lavender continued.

"Yes," said Hermione, a hint of jealousy and contempt in her voice, "And when the magic is used-"

"Its effects carry over to the real world, as does any damage that the person might have," Lavender said smartly, apparently pleased at Hermione's growing annoyance.

"You know what, Lavender, why don't _you_ explain to everyone what a Nocturnimagus is?" she spat, "Go on! I'd love to see you try to explain to everyone how old they are, or how they were defeated!"

Lavender gave Hermione a scornful glare and shrunk into a stool at a table in a far corner of the room.

"Right," Hermione sighed in exasperation, "Now that _that's_ out of the way, let _us_ tell you about Nocturnimagi. Harry?"

"Do you still have that book, Hermione? We can use the picture in it to show everyone what we're talking about," he said.

Hermione picked up her bag and started to look for the book. It must have been enchanted with an undetectable extension charm because she began to take out all manner of books and equipment as she trawled through it, many of the books bigger than the bag itself. Harry started to explain to the other students what Nocturnimagi were whilst Hermione rummaged through her bag looking for the book. There were several times when she had interrupted Harry due to various items randomly jumping out at her, or even attacking her as the Monster Book of Monsters had done, causing several of the students to giggle as she struggled to fight the book off. The thrashing of the book led to mounds of papers, as well as a couple of phials of potion, being coughed out of the bag and onto the carpet around Hermione's seat. It eventually let go and flopped to the floor after Harry, who had become irritated by the constant interruptions, stroked a finger down the spine of the thrashing book, causing it to let out some sort of a grumble, and then relax completely. Eventually, Hermione managed to find the book and slammed it down on the table in triumph. Her hair was now bushier than ever after battling with the Monster Book of Monsters. She began to flick through the thick, leather book to find the right page.

"Ah, here it is," she said and handed the book to Harry, who then passed it round to Dean, and then off round the rest of the students in the common room. As each student glanced at the page, horrified expressions covered their faces, and soon the room was engulfed in a deathly silence. Eventually, the book made its way back to Harry, who sat with the pages open on his lap as finished his explanation.

"The picture of the four elements on the page shows that the Nocturnimagi originally gained their powers from nature, which is why you can only have these powers through genetics; it's the most natural thing in existence. But for some reason, the Nocturnimagi weren't born with the ability to control the four elements. If they were, they'd be able to control all of nature, and probably destroy everything as we know it. Luckily, the Ministry was able to put a stop to the Nocturnimagi before they killed the entire wizarding population."

"How did they manage that?" Neville asked, "If there's a way to stop the Nocturnimagus that's attacking us then I want to fight!"

"It took two attempts for the Ministry to get rid of the Nocturnimagi for good," Oliver joined in, "The first attempt we know of, but it didn't work. The second attempt we aren't too sure about, but we what we _do_ know is that it finally drove the Nocturnimagi away."

"Tell us about the first attempt," said Dean.

"The first attempt to get rid of the Nocturnimagi involved the Ministry recruiting new aurors, but there was something special about them," said Oliver, "The new aurors had been recruited specifically because they had been affected by love, like Harry. The Nocturnimagi would do anything to get to the love-bearers because they possessed the one thing that the Nocturnimagi most desired; the power of love. The power of love lets the witch or wizard use magic freehand, as well as being able to control the four elements. Because the Nocturnimagi's powers were of the darkest magic, attacking the new aurors in their dreams would mean that any damage done to them would only be repelled back at them. The new aurors were then able to lure the Nocturnimagi to attack them, but then they would kill the Nocturnimagi once its magic had been repelled and it was left vulnerable. The effects would carry over to the real world where the love-bearer was unharmed, but the Nocturnimagi would be dead. The amount of Nocturnimagi was cut down from three million to two hundred thousand within a _year_."

"Then that means… Harry! You can stop the Nocturnimagi!" Seamus said excitedly, "_And_ you can control the weather and stuff!"

"Calm down, Seamus, you're forgetting one important thing; this attempt, whilst highly successful at first, turned out to be a complete failure for the Ministry. See, the Nocturnimagi managed to find a way to manipulate the love-bearers into making them go insane."

"And how did they do that?"

"Dreams," said Oliver, "By manipulating the love-bearers', and their families', dreams they were able to drive them into insanity."

"But I thought you said that the Nocturnimagi's power was purely dark magic. How could it affect the love-bearers if they're impervious to dark magic?"

"It doesn't take dark magic to control dreams, Seamus," said Hermione, "If you have enough influence over someone, you can force them to dream about horrifying things. But in the case of the Nocturnimagi, they were able to make the love-bearers dream about terrible things happening to their families. But that's not all; the effects of the dreams would carry over to the real world. Even though the love-bearers' bodies would be fine, their minds would become ever more fragile, and they soon began to crumble under the weight of their own responsibilities, especially once they learned that their families were being a-a-attacked a-and k-k-killed…"

Hermione's eyes began to well with tears as the thought of her mother came rushing back to her, but she soon realised that there was more hope for her than she had thought. As Ron rushed to comfort her, she picked up a minute phial from the floor next to her bag. Inside it was a clear blue liquid that radiated a warm glow around the room and over the faces of everyone present. It sparkled despite the dull glow coming from the ebbing fire, which was now reduced to dreary embers, and the darkness of the raging storm that was now besieging the castle walls. In fact, the phial seemed to be the only worthy source of light in the room now.

"_Lumos!_" Harry said and waved a hand in the air. A large globe of light burst out of thin air in the centre of the ceiling and illuminated the entire room, huge rays of light shining out through the windows and into the murky depths of the night beyond. The students in the common gasped in awe as they witnessed first-hand Harry's freehand abilities.

"Harry, I've just remembered, I have somewhere to be!" Hermione said and packed all her things, "I've had this potion for a couple of weeks now and I've only just remembered that I still have it! How could I have been so forgetful! I don't know how long I'll be, so don't wait up, Ron," she added and ran from the common room.

"Any idea where she's going, Ron?" asked Harry.

"Shit, I forgot, too! Her mother! Harry, do you remember when Professor Snape" (a few girls giggled at the memory of Snape's new dress code) "called Hermione back that day in Potions when he first 'changed'?"

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, Madame Pomfrey was adamant that she wouldn't create a potion to bring Hermione's mother out of a coma since she isn't magical," Ron explained.

"That's terrible!" said Parvati. The sound of her voice reminded Harry that he, Ron and Oliver were not the only ones in the room.

"I know," said Ron, "Anyway, Professor Snape gave Hermione an extra-strong potion to make sure that her mum would wake up from the coma. That's probably where she's gone now! I need to go after her! Merlin, I didn't think I'd be meeting her parents this early; I was going to meet them at Christmas but I guess the circumstances have changed slightly."

He started running out of the common room in Hermione's direction, calling for her to slow down while he tried to catch up with her.

"Hermione, wait up!" Harry could hear him calling from the distant corridor.

The other students in the room were gazing at him and Oliver, eagerly awaiting more information about the Nocturnimagi.

"So, then what did the Ministry do if the love-bearers were being eliminated?" asked Dean.

"They didn't really know what to do until the end of the year four ninety nine," said Oliver, "But then they realised that they could use the most ancient and powerful form of magic imaginable; Vinculum Duo."

There was a ripple of murmuring around the common room, and all heads suddenly turned to face Lavender.

"Vinculum Duo?" she repeated, "As in 'The Bond of Two'?"

"Lavender, do you know what Vinculum Duo is?" Harry said amazedly, "You've got to tell us! We won't be able to fight the Nocturnimagus if we don't know what it is."

"I-I don't know what it is _exactly_," she said, "But what I _can_ tell you is that it can only be used when two people are connected in both body and soul. My father works in the Department of Ancient Affairs at the Ministry, that's where he found out about it. I just heard him talking about Vinculum Duo one day and I guess I didn't really forget. The whole idea seems so romantic to me," she added with a dreamy sigh.

"Is there any way that you'd be able to get us to talk to your father?" asked Oliver.

"I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you, Lavender," said Oliver, "Now, I think we'd all best be going to bed. It's nearly 2:00 a.m."

"No way!" shouted Seamus, "I'm not going to sleep if there's a Nocturnimagus running wild in our dreams! Do I look like I want to die?"

"Seamus, calm down," said Dean, "We've still got our Draught of Dreamless Sleep that we brewed in Potions."

"Yeah, and? What about it?"

"Think, Seamus, think. The Nocturnimagus needs us to _dream_ in order to attack us. Now think, what does the Draught of _Dreamless_ Sleep do?"

"Oh! Then let's get up to bed, I'm exhausted," Seamus replied, picking up his bag and pulling Dean along behind him. The rest of the students were quick to follow, apart from Neville who, as expected, didn't have any Draught of Dreamless Sleep.

"We'll give you a phial of ours, Neville," said Harry, "Don't tell anybody, but we've managed to stock up on the potion over the last week or so. You understand why we want to keep this for ourselves, don't you?"

"Of course, Harry," said Neville, "You and Oliver need to stay alive because you can't risk being attacked."

Harry and Oliver watched Neville as he walked up upstairs to his bedroom. When they heard the final click of the doors upstairs, Harry and Oliver each pulled out a phial of Dreamless Sleep potion and downed them. The sensation created by the potion was rather strange. It felt as though Harry's entire body had been plunged into a bucket of ice. His mind began to spin with all of his dreams of the past few weeks, both good and bad, and little stars erupted in front of his eyes. When the sensation subsided, Harry felt clear-headed and weightless. He looked at Oliver. To his astonishment, Oliver's eyes had changed from that beautiful hazel they had always been, to a misty colour swirling around his pupils.

"Ready for bed?" Harry asked, with Oliver nodding in response, "Let's go, then. _Nox!_"

Waving his hand in the air for one final time, Harry extinguished the bright light that had illuminated the otherwise-dark common room. It disappeared in a wisp of white smoke and drifted towards the edges of the room, where it seeped through the gaps in the window panes and out into the stormy night. Harry and Oliver walked out of the common room hand-in-hand and up to Harry's bedroom, their minds clear, not thinking about the Nocturnimagus or anything that had happened over the last couple of weeks. They were completely at peace and there was nothing to suggest that they would be in for a tough November.

The subject of Quidditch had, for the first time in their lives, been completely wiped from Harry and Oliver's minds. The Quidditch Cup had been cancelled, as a mark of respect to Coach Snortson who, so the Ravenclaw students had said, was one of the kindest women you could ever come across, and her funeral was now set for Christmas Eve so that her family could get their affairs in order. Rynold Hedgeforth and Milia Swampstead were now jobless, just as Oliver would have been had Hogwarts not been in urgent need of a Flying teacher for first years. He, Rynold and Milia had all applied for the position, but it seemed that a former professional Quidditch player would be the best choice to teach new students how to fly. He remembered back to the day of the interview where the three former coaches had waited anxiously outside Dumbledore's office for news of the one who had got the job. Rynold and Milia gave Oliver a look of deepest loathing as Dumbledore congratulated him on becoming the new Flying teacher; they were both out of jobs as well as places to stay, although Dumbledore kindly offered to pay for two months' residence in Hogsmeade while they looked for homes of their own.

The death of Coach Snortson had shook the school to its very core, particularly, to Harry's intense trepidation, Dumbledore. Nothing Harry could ever have dreamed of had managed to make Dumbledore seem as old and frail as he did now. He appeared in the corridors and hallways of the school a lot less frequently as he previously had done, and his face now took on a gaunt appearance, his once sparkling eyes now a rather pallid shade of blue. The Ravenclaw students now seemed to emit a toxically-miserable gas that seeped through the walls of the castle and under doorways. Whilst the Hufflepuffs and Slytherins dredged misery throughout the corridors, the Gryffindors seemed paradoxically cheerful, and it was completely unknown to Harry as to why, even though he and Oliver themselves felt particularly cheerful. Every time the Gryffindors were seeing smiling or laughing in the corridors they were thrown dark glances of the utmost contempt by the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Perhaps the most alarming thing about the glares was that many of them seemed to be coming from the Slytherins; maybe it was the downfall of Draco Malfoy that had led to Slytherin house leaving its dark past behind, and instead trying to find ways of making peace with Gryffindor. The attempts so far appeared to be failing, however, due to the Gryffindors' cheeriness during such a dark time.

November was beginning to settle in a few days after Halloween, as was made evident by the sudden bite that the air had obtained. The ground was sodden and the grass was waterlogged, making it very difficult to walk anywhere in the grounds without getting wet or dirty, or a combination of both. Mysteriously, not even the miserable weather was enough to bring the Gryffindors' spirits down.

Not too long after breakfast a week after Halloween, Ron and Hermione returned to Hogwarts. They looked as though they had been awake all night, with dark circles beneath their eyes, yet they were grinning widely as they wandered back into the castle through the double doors to the entrance hall. Harry knew why almost instantly; Hermione's red swollen eyes, in contrast with the wide smile on her face, told Harry that she had been successful in reviving her mother, and his mood became even better; it was obvious that she was happy, and her eyes announced to the world that she had been crying.

"Harry, we did it!" she squealed, "The potion took some modification but we managed to get it just right! We managed to get her to wake up last night. She's a bit groggy today but we're going to visit her again tomorrow to see how she's doing."

"That's great, Hermione!" Harry and Oliver said in unison and pulled her into a friendly hug. She began to sob into their shoulders, fresh tears streaming down her blotchy face.

"But when she first woke up she was mumbling something," she whispered hoarsely, "She was mumbling _your_ name, Harry. We're going to try and find out why she was mumbling your name tomorrow. You're welcome to come with us."

"I'm there," said Harry, "You coming, Oliver?"

"The first years don't have Flying tomorrow so I'm free," Oliver nodded, "When are we meeting up?"

"About 6:00 p.m. should be fine," said Hermione, "I'm not sure about how long we'll be gone for, though."

"It shouldn't be too much of a problem," said Oliver, "You can Apparate can't you, Hermione?"

"Yes, that's how we got there last week."

"Good. Then we'll Disapparate from Hogsmeade tomorrow at six," said Oliver.

The next day after dinner Harry and Oliver made their way down to Hogsmeade through a thick whirl of hail, the ice balls ricocheting off their frozen faces and stinging them in the places they hit. Harry and Oliver wore two thick coats over their robes and drew scarves halfway up their faces, leaving only their eyes visible with woolly black hats covering their heads. Short hair wasn't exactly desirable in such harsh conditions. As promised, Ron and Hermione were waiting outside The Three Broomsticks, also wrapped up in warm clothing.

"Are you ready to go, then?" Ron's voice was muffled through his scarf, barely audible over the din of the whistling wind.

"I think so," said Harry.

"So where are we going?" said Oliver, "Do you have a picture with you that I can look at so that I know where to Apparate to?"

Hermione dug through her pockets and pulled out a small unmoving photograph of Hermione and her mother in their garden. Hermione looked just as she did when she came to Hogwarts, likely just before she got her acceptance letter. She handed it over to Oliver.

"Why isn't it moving?" asked Ron curiously.

"My dad took it shortly before my eleventh birthday," said Hermione, "It's a Muggle photograph."

"Alright, I think I've got it," Oliver said after carefully taking in each part of the living room in the photograph, "Ready to go, Harry?"

Harry nodded in agreement, being careful not to dislodge the tight scarf from around his face. He curled his arm around Oliver's as Ron curled his around Hermione's. With a loud _crack_ they were gone.

Apparating was never a pleasant experience for Harry. He felt the sodden ground beneath him slip out from underneath his feet and he soon found himself being compressed from all sides, as though being forced through a very tight tube. The feeling subsided as soon as it had arrived. Before his brain collected itself he was standing outside a brown oak door with a brass knocker and handle. Ron and Hermione appeared next to him with another loud _crack_. Looking around, he could see that he was now far away from Hogwarts, but the weather was just as violent as it had been when they set off.

"Hermione, where exactly are we?" said Harry, "You didn't really tell us where you lived."

"We're just on the edge of London," said Hermione, "Come on in. I sent dad an owl this morning telling him we'd be here at six."

Hermione opened the door and walked through into the passageway, with Ron, Harry and Oliver following closely behind. A pleasant scent of roast chicken and potatoes wafted through the open door to the kitchen at the end of the passageway. It then became apparent to Harry just hungry he was; his stomach groaned loudly. Oliver's stomach grumbled too, followed by Ron's just a few seconds after.

"Dad, I'm home!" Hermione called.

Mr Granger came bustling out of the kitchen wearing a floral-designed pink apron and matching-coloured rubber gloves. He was a tall man who looked to be in his mid-forties, with balding grey hair and a light stubble on his chin. Beneath the apron he was wearing a beige cardigan with white trousers.

"Hello, Hermione!" he beamed and hurried over to her, kissing her once on each cheek, "And, hello again, Ron!" he added, hugging Ron.

"Dad, these are two of my other friends, Harry and Oliver," Hermione introduced, "Harry, Oliver, this is my dad."

"Please, call me Arnold," he smiled, "Come in, come in! Make yourself at home. Our living room is just through there," he pointed to a door leading to a room on the left, "Can I get you anything to drink?"

"I'll just have a drink of lemonade if you have any, thanks," said Oliver.

"Lemon-aid?" Ron said confusedly, "What's that?"

"It's a fizzy drink, Ron," said Mr Granger, "Would you like to try it? What about you, Harry? Would you like to try it as well?"

"I don't really like it," replied Harry, "But I'd love a glass of cream soda if you have any?"

"Of course!" Mr Granger was positively beaming, "And what can I get you, dear?" he asked Hermione.

"Just a cup of tea, thanks, dad," Hermione said.

He scuttled out of the living room and into the kitchen, where they could hear him clattering about as he took cups and glasses out of cupboards and drinks out of the fridge. Within minutes he was coming back into the living room with five cups on a silver tray. He handed them each their drinks and then took his own mug of tea from the tray, before sitting himself down in a squashy green armchair next to the door and reclining backwards. Harry and Oliver sat down on a moss-coloured sofa at the other side of the room and sighed in comfort. Ron and Hermione sat down on an identical sofa just in front of the window.

"Hermione told me about your aunt and uncle, Harry," said Mr Granger, "I honestly cannot believe that they would treat their own family like that."

"Yeah, well I don't think they consider me to be family," Harry said, "Not that it bothers me, though. I want nothing more to do with them."

"Honestly," Mr Granger sighed, "Trying to keep your own nephew away from school. It's completely ludicrous! When Margaret - that's my wife, and Hermione's mum - when Margaret and I first heard that our precious Hermione was a witch, we were so proud of her! Of course, we hesitated at first in case someone was playing a trick on Hermione; she was always bullied in primary school for being different, bless her. But when my wife and I sat down and thought about it, it really made sense. She'd always exhibited certain… 'oddities', shall we say? Then we pieced it all together and suddenly everything started to make sense. So, naturally, we headed straight off to Diagon Alley to get her school things. When we got back we couldn't keep her away from her books! You'd always see her with her wand out, practicing spells that we had no idea what the effects were. But we warned her not to perform any magic that would change her teeth; we were going to fit braces for her when she returned home after her second year, but _somehow_ they'd shrunk."

"I didn't do it myself, dad," said Hermione, "It was Madame Pomfrey. I got jinxed and my teeth started to grow, so she told me to tell her when to lift the shrinking spell once my teeth reached their old size. But I just thought I'd have them a little bit smaller. I wouldn't have done it if it hadn't have been for Draco Malfoy jinxing me, and I'd probably be in braces right now."

"Hmm," Mr Granger grumbled reprovingly, "I still don't like the idea of you cheating to make your teeth better, Hermione."

"Dad, can we please just drop it?" said Hermione, "Anyway, how's-"

"Hermione! Ron! Sweethearts!" a croaky yet happy voice trilled from the staircase. Stood there clad in a violently-purple dressing gown was Hermione's mother who, considering the past couple of weeks, hardly looked worse for wear. The only signs of any lasting damage done to her were a few cuts and bruises on her face and arms, "How long have you been- Oh! And who are these two handsome gentlemen?" she added, nodding at Harry and Oliver, who both glanced at each other and blushed.

"These are my two other friends Harry," Harry nodded, "and Oliver," Oliver waved, "Shouldn't you still be up in bed, mum? You need your rest; I only managed to bring you back to us two nights ago."

"I feel fine, Hermione," Mrs Granger assured her, "It's really very nice to meet you two," she smiled at Harry and Oliver.

"Nice to meet you, too," said Harry, "Although, I have to say Hermione hasn't really told us much about you both."

"Hermione has told us a lot about you two, of course," said Mrs Granger, apparently ignoring Harry's statement about Hermione not telling he, or anybody else for that matter, much about her parents apart from the fact that they were Muggles and both dentists.

"Really?" Oliver cast an amused smile in Hermione's direction. She seemed rather embarrassed for some reason, "Like what?"

"Well, she's told me that you're both single and looking for love," said Mrs Granger. Harry and Oliver's raised their eyebrows in surprise and without warning Hermione found herself with three pairs of eyes staring up at her; even Ron was surprised at this, "Well, I can assure you dears that I know plenty of girls around your age."

Harry and Oliver's eyebrows were almost flying off the top of their foreheads in shock. Not only had Hermione failed to tell her parents that they were in a relationship, she had also failed to tell them that Harry and Oliver were gay. Desperate for a reason to get out of the room and away from Harry, Ron and Oliver's penetrating stares Hermione said that she wanted to help with the dinner. The smell of roast chicken and potatoes was almost overpowering, but it smelled divine. Hermione ran from the room and before long she, too, could be heard clattering around in the kitchen as she prepared the dinner.

"Mrs Granger," said Oliver.

"Oh, please, Oliver, call me Margaret," she said.

"O-OK. Margaret, there's something that we need to get cleared up right away, because I can see that it's just going to make things a lot more awkward if we don't tell you. Harry and I aren't looking for love-"

"Oh, nonsense," Mrs Granger said, batting a hand as though she was swatting a fly away, "Every man is looking for at least _one_ woman that can make him-"

"We aren't looking for love," Oliver continued, "because we've already found it."

"Really? Who are the lucky girls?" Mrs Granger was beaming now. Her nosiness was rather annoying to Harry, who wished that he could just crawl under a rock somewhere and pretend that he did not exist. This entire affair was incredibly awkward for him. Perhaps he would be able to use his powers to turn himself invisible, or make himself one with the gale outside. Maybe he would be able to just evaporate into the air and drift out of the house. Maybe he could turn himself into a flame and join his brethren in the coal grate on the far side of the room, just to get away from the increasingly embarrassing scene unfolding before him.

"Margaret," Oliver said with an air of annoyance in his voice, "Harry and I aren't looking for love because we've already found it. We've found it in_ each other_. Harry and I are in love. We're a gay couple."

These words seemed to have little effect on either of Hermione's parents. After minutes of silence, apart from the clattering coming from the kitchen as Hermione pulled out dishes and plates, Mrs Granger spoke.

"Wow, really? I'd never have guessed! But now that I think about it, I can really see how cute you two could be together. Hermione's told me all about how you both love- oh, what is it? Gildritch?"

"Quidditch," Ron said. It was the first time that he had spoken since Hermione made a break for it and went to the kitchen to help fix the dinner. A loud clang from the kitchen, followed by the sounds of several porcelain pots shattering into several pieces, drew Mrs Granger's attention towards the door.

"Hermione, love, do you need a hand?" she called.

"No thanks, mum, I can handle it!" Hermione called back, "_Reparo!_". The sound of porcelain chinking together signalled the pots' repair, "Finished! Dinner should be done in about five minutes!"

"I can't wait," Mr Granger grinned, "Hermione was always a good cook. During her summer holidays when she wasn't at Hogwarts she'd always be the one cooking at mealtimes. I guess I won't be needing this," he added, removing the pink apron from his front. He looked at lot more manly without it, Harry thought to himself, "As for tonight," Mr Granger continued, "I'm not really sure if there'll be enough food for everyone. I only started making enough for four people, see; Hermione, Ron, Margaret and myself."

"That shouldn't be a problem," said Harry, "I'm sure Hermione knows a spell that can-"

"Already on it!" shouted Hermione. A loud pop emanated from the kitchen, "There! Dinner's ready!"

They all stood up and walked through the passageway into the kitchen. It was rather large, much like the Dursleys', except the Grangers' kitchen had a much more welcoming atmosphere, just like rest of their house. A heavenly scent of roast chicken and potatoes, now with the added smell of a variety of vegetables, drifted over their noses, making them groan at the pleasure of it all. A washing machine stood proudly in one corner beneath a miniscule window, a fridge and a cooker at either side, with the sink and cupboards on the opposite side of the kitchen. The kitchen was long, and rectangular in shape, with many different-sized cupboards and cabinets lining the walls. At the far end of the room sat a particularly small circular table with four brown chairs placed strategically around it.

"Sorry, dears," Mrs Granger apologised, "But we only have four chairs. You couldn't be a dear and conjure more chairs could you, Hermione?"

"It's OK, I'll do it," said Harry and, waving one hand in the air, two extra wooden chairs appeared, floating, and dropped to the table below with a loud thud. The other chairs around the table scuttled out of the way as the new ones placed themselves gingerly around the edge.

"Ah, thank you, Harry," Mrs Granger smiled as she and the others, apart from Hermione, sat down at the table. It wasn't long before Hermione was bringing their plates over, along with tureens of carrots and peas, and two tall jugs of thick gravy. Clearly famished, Harry, Ron and Oliver began laboriously spooning mounds of peas and carrots onto their plates, with Hermione and Mr and Mrs Granger close behind. The light outside had been replaced by a murky blackness, yet the gale that had attacked Harry and the others as they arrived here was still ongoing, even growing stronger by the minute. The hail rattled off the roof of the house and sent dull thuds echoing around the house. A small clock hung on the wall above Mrs Granger's head; 19:45.

"Blimey, would you look at the time!" Mr Granger said as he poured a generous amount of gravy onto his already-mountainous plate, "I don't think it'd be safe for you all to go back to Hogwarts in weather like this. Why not stay the night? We could use the company."

"We would," said Hermione, "But I don't know if Harry and Oliver have to be back at Hogwarts for anything."

"I'm free from the first years for the next couple of days," said Oliver, "It's not a problem with me."

"I've got a bit of homework to do but it's nothing that can't be done in an hour or so," said Harry in between mouthfuls of food, "Do we have any Dreamless Draught, Ollie?"

"Yeah, I brought some with us in case we needed to stay over because of the weather," said Oliver.

"What's 'Dreamless Draught?'" asked Mrs Granger.

"It stops you from dreaming, mum," said Hermione, "Dad said I could give you some in your nightly tea once you came back to us."

"Dreaming?" Mrs Granger said shocked, "Why would you want me to stop dreaming? Yes, during my coma I might have been having dreams about a hooded figure but they could never do me any harm."

"I'm afraid that's where you're wrong, Mrs Granger," Harry said mildly.

"Please, call me Margaret, Harry."

"The hooded figure that you've been seeing in your sleep isn't just a dream. It's so much more than that. Those cuts and bruises on her arms and face, were they there when she fell into the coma?" Harry asked Mr Granger.

"Why- no, I don't believe they were," said Mr Granger confusedly.

"When she was in the coma," Harry pressed on, "Did she show any signs of a struggle, like she was fighting something that wasn't there?"

"As a matter of fact, yes, she did. H-how could she..? What are you implying?" Mr Granger seemed to be growing more scared by the minute.

"The reason behind her struggling was because she was fighting the hooded figure in her sleep. Her dreams to be more precise," explained Harry.

"It's not possible for your dreams to affect you in the real world."

"Yes, it is, Arnold," said Mrs Granger, "About a week ago I was dreaming that the figure was attacking me. In the dream he managed to cut my arm, but that was it. Apparently, it wanted to make me fear it until it was strong enough to…" she trailed off.

"Until it was strong enough to kill you," Hermione finished.

"Yes," Mrs Granger continued, "When I woke up, there were cuts and bruises all over me. But I was sure it just because I'd been thrashing about whilst I was in the coma, like you would if you were having a nightmare."

"Is it even possible to dream whilst you're in a coma?" Mr Granger asked as he ate a mouthful of potato.

"When magic's involved you can do practically anything," said Oliver, "Apart from raise the dead; the most you can hope to do with corpses is make zombies- _not_ the ones you're thinking of," he added quickly at the looks of terror on Mr and Mrs Granger's faces.

"What does magic have to do with this?" asked Mr Granger, "These are _dreams_ we're talking about, not witches or wizards."

"It has everything to do with magic, dad," said Hermione, "The thing that was attacking mum is called a Nocturnimagus."

"A _what_?" Mr Granger said, befuddled.

"A Nocturnimagus," Hermione repeated, "It's a type of wizard that can change other people's dreams."

Hermione spent the next ten minutes explaining to her parents what the Nocturnimagi were, and about how prevalent they were during the 5th Century, along with explaining how they were defeated, came back, and then finally taken out for good. But the last part stumped Hermione; she still had no clue what Vinculum Duo was. The next five minutes after that was spent telling her parents about the death of Coach Snortson at the hands of the Nocturnimagus.

"Good lord!" cried Mrs Granger.

"So these 'Nocturnimagi'," Mr Granger said slowly, "They've come back?"

"Yes," said Hermione.

"And you need to know what Vinculum Duo is in order to get rid of this one once and for all?"

"Yes."

"I read about Vinculum Duo in a book at the local library," Mrs Granger said suddenly, "Apparently, it's the most ancient form of magic. According to the book, it can only be used when two people who are remarkably similar are in love, and share an unbreakable connection. Of course, the kids in the library simply laughed when they read the book; they had no idea that magic was real. But I knew better, ever since Hermione got her acceptance letter to Hogwarts. I wonder what it was doing in a, what's the word? Someone who can't do magic."

"Muggle," said Oliver.

"Yes, thank you, Oliver. A Muggle library like ours."

"C-could you tell us where the library is?" Harry stammered as he glanced around at the others. They were all wide-eyed in shock, having apparently found the place where they could research what Vinculum Duo was.

"Yes, it's just around the corner from here. Hermione can take you there in the morning," said Mrs Granger as she finished her meal.

The storm outside continued to grow fiercer as the rest of the group finished their food, with Ron politely asking for more chicken from Mrs Granger.

"Help yourself, dear," she chuckled as Ron ravaged what was left of the once-sizeable chicken.

Come ten o'clock, all of them were incredibly tired and full. The meal had been excellent, and there had been a large revelation at the dinner table, but Harry was too stuffed to even think about it now. He and Oliver lay together on the sofa while Mr and Mrs Granger sat in their armchairs, happily watching a horror film on TV. Hermione had conjured another sofa for her and Ron to lay on and they, too, began watching the movie. Ron was transfixed with the alien machine. It was a particularly scary film, and it struck a horrible chord with Harry; a serial killer, dressed in a red and green sweater with a brown fedora hat and a bladed glove, burned beyond recognition, had remarkably similar powers to the Nocturnimagus. Perhaps the director had a knowledge of the wizarding world and the Nocturnimagi, Harry thought. Was it possible that the director was a Squib? The thought was soon drove from his mind when Oliver jumped in fright as a particularly gruesome scene came on screen. Hermione groaned in disgust as a rather handsome boy was pulled into his bed and regurgitated in a huge spew of blood and gore, splattering up the ceiling and across the walls.

"Are you alright, Ollie?" Harry whispered, "Not scared, are you?"

"Nope," Oliver whispered back, "Just took me by surprise, is all."

"Whatever you say, baby, whatever you say," Harry gave Oliver a cheeky smirk and pecked him on the cheek.

"I don't know about you lot," Mr Granger said eventually, "But I'm rather tired. I have work in the morning so I'll need to be up early."

"Me too," said Mrs Granger, but Mr Granger gave her a warning look.

"You need to rest," he said flatly, "Matilda knows that you aren't very well so just make the most of it until she wants you back at work."

"Arnold, I'm fine aside from a few minor scratches," Mrs Granger said pleadingly, "I'll go in tomorrow and just say I made a quick recovery."

"Fine," Mr Granger conceded, "But if you feel at all unwell you're to come straight back home, understand?"

"Yes, boss," she replied sarcastically, "Whatever you say, boss."

"I think we'll be going to bed, too," said Hermione, "Hold on, mum, you need to take your Dreamless Draught. We don't want you dreaming in case the Nocturnimagus attacks you again. With all the fright that the students at Hogwarts have had over the last couple of weeks, it wouldn't surprise me if the Nocturnimagus now had the power to kill. And you two," she pointed at Harry and Oliver, "You'll need to store as much of this as you can get. I have a theory, but I don't know if it'll work yet. Either way, you both need to stay alive."

She took out six small phials of colourless liquid; Dreamless Draught.

"It'll feel strange, or even uncomfortable, when you take the potion," she warned her parents as she handed everyone a phial of the colourless liquid, "It's like being thrown into cold water, and then your head starts to go all fuzzy. Harry, Ron, Oliver and me are used to it by now because we take it every night, but I can't say the same for you two because it's the first time you'll have taken it."

"If you've been putting this in my nightly cup of tea, how come I haven't experienced any of these things?" Mrs Granger asked.

"That's most likely the tea," explained Hermione, "If you put a potion into a drink, the side effects go away and the potion adapts its taste and texture to that of the liquid its in."

"Oh. Oh well, bottoms up," Mr Granger said, and he and Mrs Granger downed their bottles of potion, shuddering as their insides turned to ice, and their eyes grew gradually mistier. Without another word, they handed Hermione back the phials and headed upstairs. Hermione and Ron took their potions as you would drink a bottle of water. With no side effects present, Hermione told Harry and Oliver where they'd be sleeping.

"I'm afraid it's only a two-bedroom house," she said sympathetically, "But the sofa over there pulls out into a double bed. You'll be comfortable there for the night, won't you?"

"Yeah, we'll be just dandy," Oliver grinned.

"Try not to make too much noise, you two," Ron winked as he and Hermione walked upstairs to their bedroom, which clicked shut behind them. Oliver walked over to the living room door and shut it quietly, then turned round to face Harry with a hungry glint in his hypnotically-hazel eyes.

"You have no idea how much I want you right now," he said in a husky voice as he prowled over to Harry like a panther ready to pounce.

"I could say the same to you," Harry flirted and walked right up to Oliver. He held Oliver's face in between his thumb and forefinger and kissed it gently, licking the skin and trailing a line a saliva down Oliver's hard-set jaw. Oliver shuddered slightly as he entered the first stages of arousal, his half-hard cock gently pulsing in his boxer shorts. He took Harry's face in his hands and started to gently suck and nibble at his jaw line, occasionally peppering his cheeks and forehead with little kisses that left a lasting impression on Harry; it wasn't long before he was melting in Oliver's muscular arms.

"You like that, baby?" Oliver said huskily.

"Y-yeah… m-my neck… kiss my neck…"

Oliver complied. In an agonisingly-slow movement, he dragged his tongue down from Harry's cheek and started to flick at the sensitive skin at the base of his neck. Harry gasped in pleasure, bringing his hands up to Oliver's waist and sliding them inside his shirt, stroking the ridged, smooth bronze skin beneath. He slowly pulled the shirt up from Oliver's taut torso, causing Oliver to take his attention away from Harry's neck while he removed the clothing. Harry whined at the sudden loss of contact from his neck, but once Oliver had fully removed his shirt, Harry was quick to embrace him once again, this time claiming Oliver's lips in an enchanting, uplifting kiss. They moaned into each other's mouths as they opened up, letting their tongues intertwine in a furious battle for supremacy as they fought for dominion over the other's mouth. They separated to allow each other to breathe, their tongues having reached a stalemate.

Harry stroked his hands down Oliver's firm chest, over his tight pecs and abs. Reclaiming Oliver's lips with his own, Harry brought his thumbs and forefingers up around Oliver's erect nipples and gently twisted them. Oliver hissed into Harry's mouth at the pleasure.

"Mmm… Harry…" he gasped.

Harry broke the kiss once more and, waving his hand at the sofa so that it sprang out into a double bed, he gestured for Oliver to lay down. Oliver stole another sweet kiss from Harry's lips and laid down on the sofa-bed. Wasting no time, Harry took off his own shirt and straddled Oliver's waist, leaning over to carry on kissing him with passion, their tongues locking together once more.

Harry traced his hands down Oliver's side and into the waistband of his trousers, sliding his thumbs beneath the elastic of Oliver's boxer shorts and feeling the subtle dusting of hair there that drove him crazy. He could feel himself becoming painfully hard within the strict confines of his trousers. Harry needed love. Harry needed release. Harry needed Oliver.

Oliver, seeing Harry's plight, made quick work of the younger boy's trousers, pulling them down from his waist and, pushing Harry off of him and onto the bed, over and off his legs and feet. The relief of pressure was sudden, and Harry lay before Oliver, flushed with arousal and begging to be caressed, his throbbing erection threatening to burst out of his silken boxer shorts.

"Let's get you naked," Oliver smirked and pulled on the waistband of Harry's boxers. They slipped off with considerable ease, leaving Harry wearing nothing but his birthday suit, and he looked delicious, "Merlin, you're so fucking hot, Harry."

"Look who's talking," Harry said smartly and crushed his lips down onto Oliver's into a bruising kiss. He didn't care how rough the kiss was, he didn't care that their teeth were clashing together, he didn't even care that Oliver wasn't naked yet; all he cared about was the fact that it was Oliver he was with and nobody, wizard, Muggle, or Nocturnimagi, could take that away from him. Harry lapped at the inside of Oliver's mouth, trying to claim every piece of him that he could. The pair became lost in each other and before long, Harry tore Oliver's trousers straight off his legs, the fabric ripping at the seams.

"Holy shit, Harry!" Oliver said, subdued so that he wouldn't wake the others upstairs, "How did you-"

"I want you too fucking bad to take things slow," Harry muttered and slammed himself down directly on top of Oliver, his naked hard cock grinding against Oliver's cotton-covered own, the metal frame of the sofa-bed creaking beneath them. The friction drove them crazy and they were soon moaning into each other's mouths as they sealed their faces together yet again.

"H-Harry! Fuck…"

Harry, filled with desire and desperate for release, waved his hand in the air and sent Oliver's boxer shorts flying from his legs and onto the carpet beneath the bed. There, in all its splendid unabashed glory, stood Oliver's throbbing cock, precum leaking profusely from the dilated slit. Never before had Harry been turned like he did now, and it was taking every ounce of his being not to ravage Oliver there and then. Despite the desperate screams of his body to shag Oliver senseless at that very moment, Harry knew that it would be best to build up the pleasure, and then finally come together like they had so many times before.

"I want a taste of that beautiful cock," Harry winked and pulled Oliver's legs apart so that he could manoeuvre his way up towards the older boy's free-standing erection. Wasting no time, Harry took the entirety of Oliver's length into his mouth in one fell swoop.

"Harry…" Oliver moaned breathlessly as the younger boy began to boy slowly up and down his length, using the flat of his tongue to massage the underside of Oliver's leaking swollen cock.

Harry's pace quickened, and soon he could feel Oliver's calloused fingers curling their way through his thick black locks, gripping tightly as the waves of pleasure began to intensify. Oliver's thick cock was dribbling precum onto Harry's wide tongue, and it tasted divine. Harry used his tongue to lap up every piece of Oliver that he could taste, and it felt as though he was beginning to consume Oliver's very soul.

"_Lubrico!_" Harry muttered.

Using the lube he'd just conjured, Harry slathered some onto Oliver's puckered hole, all the while continuing to suck Oliver's throbbing dick. Harry placed a finger at the entrance of Oliver's waiting anus and pressed inside gently. The tip slid in with considerable ease. A hiss of mixed pain and pleasure told Harry that he had hit that special spot inside Oliver. He wiggled his finger inside the older boy, stretching the muscles slightly. Wiggling his finger a little faster, Harry could feel himself brush gently against Oliver's prostate, and he was rewarded with a small gasp from the older boy. Harry brought another finger up to Oliver's hole and joined it up with its brother inside of his tight arse. Oliver groaned in pleasure, although a little louder than Harry was comfortable with. Thankfully, nobody upstairs appeared to have been disturbed. A careful scissor motion inside Oliver stretched the muscles even further, gaining short raspy pants from the older boy as Harry pressed against his prostate with each flex of his fingers, and it made Harry harder than he had ever been before to see Oliver in such a state of near-hysterics. Harry could see that Oliver was almost exploding with the sensations that were coursing through his body.

"I know, baby, I know," Harry said gently as Oliver squeezed his eyes tightly together, hissing as Harry withdrew his fingers from Oliver's now-relaxed hole, "But now it's time for the main event. Get on your knees."

Oliver climbed onto all fours in front of Harry and opened his legs to grant Harry access to his hungry hole. He was ready. Harry slathered the last of the lube on his own incredibly hard cock and aligned the head directly with Oliver's hole.

"I hope you're ready," Harry said, stroking Oliver's muscular back.

"I'm ready," Oliver breathed in return, pushing himself back slightly so that the tip of Harry's cock penetrated the outer ring. Oliver hissed as a fresh wave of pleasure surged through his body, "P-put the rest in, baby."

Harry complied and, with one sharp thrust, he slipped inside Oliver. The sensations were immediate and, almost instinctively, Oliver bucked his hips towards Harry as the head of the younger boy's cock slammed directly against his prostate. Oliver had been struggling valiantly to keep his moans under control but he could no longer muster the will nor the strength to do so; he cried out louder than he had ever done before, and this time Harry was sure that he could hear movement from upstairs.

"Shit!" he whispered and threw the covers over his and Oliver's bodies. He seemed persistent to not pull out of the older boy, it felt too good to do so; whoever came down to inspect the noise would have to deal with the fact that he and Oliver were having sex. A huge wave of relief washed over their systems when they heard Hermione's voice through the door.

"Quiet, you two!" she whispered harshly, "If mum and dad wake up and find out what you two have been up to, they'll flip! I'm going to put an Imperturbable Charm on the door so that nobody can hear you."

Harry heard three harsh raps on the door with what sounded like Hermione's wand.

"That ought to do it," she said after a minute or so, "Have fun."

Harry threw the covers back onto the floor.

"Well, that was rather enjoyable," Oliver said.

They both started laughing heartily.

"So that's how many near-misses now?" Harry asked in between breaths.

"About six, I think."

"The moment's ruined now, isn't it?" said Harry.

"Not at all," Oliver replied pushing back hard on Harry's cock and yelping at the pleasure, "The fun's just getting started!"

Harry pulled out of Oliver until only the tip of his cock remained inside Oliver's pleasurably-tight hole. He slammed back in with deepest hunger, pressing directly against Oliver's prostate not for the first time that night. Oliver saw stars as Harry began to pound into him from behind, with the younger boy occasionally reaching underneath Oliver to gently stroke at the older boy's throbbing cock. Screams, pounding, ecstasy. The living room was filled Oliver's cacophonous wails as Harry quickened his pace and continued to slam faster and harder into the older boy, repeatedly hammering against his prostate and, with no end in sight just yet, it seemed as though the entire thing would go on for a while, not that either of them wanted it to stop anyway. Harry wondered when the last time he'd felt this connected to someone before in his life had been, but he could come up with no answer. The truth of the matter was, as he continued to pound Oliver from behind, Harry was completely and undeniably in love. Age held no bearing over such matters as love, and the mere fact that Oliver and Harry were together was a testament to the ideal of love holding no barriers.

Harry bent low over Oliver's muscled back and began to dot kisses everywhere he could see, but he had no choice but to stop momentarily to concentrate on the incredible sensations that were assaulting his system, their point of origin his raging cock. He continued to thrust hard inside Oliver, whose wailing was increasing exponentially from the thunderous waves of pleasure that were now attacking every single nerve in his entire body.

"H-Harry! M-my Little Snitch! FUCK! MERLIN! I'M C-COMING!"Oliver screamed.

Countless thick jets of pearl-white cum erupted from Oliver's untouched cock and plastered themselves up the bed sheets. Oliver collapsed into the sticky mess beneath him, panting heavily and murmuring Harry's name over and over again. With a final devastating crash of pleasure through his body, Harry came loud and hard.

"OLIVER! I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH! NGH!"

Erupting deep inside Oliver's arse Harry, too, collapsed forwards onto the spent form of his boyfriend. As he rested his head placidly on Oliver's shoulder, Harry could feel his cum starting to leak out of Oliver's used hole. Knowing that it would be best not to get caught in this position in the morning, Harry withdrew from Oliver and laid, satisfied and exhausted, next to his boyfriend. Oliver appeared to be drifting off into a peaceful sleep until Harry tapped him hard on the shoulder.

"Oliver, baby, wake up," he said gently, "We still need to take our Dreamless Draught."

He reached over to the two phials that Oliver had placed on the floor and picked them up. He drank his potion and handed Oliver's to him, who then gulped down the contents of the phial and laid back in the sofa-bed, clearly thinking about what they had just done.

"Harry, I love you so much," Oliver said, "I'll always be here for you. You know what you are?"

"Go on then, what am I?" Harry humoured him.

"My Little Snitch."

"You're so sweet, Oliver. I honestly don't know what I'd do without you. And you'll always be here for me?"

"Always," Oliver replied.

Harry turned over to face Oliver, who was watching him intently. Harry's eyes filled with tears; Oliver had just given him a nickname, and for some reason it made him feel more secure in the knowledge that he was able to communicate with Oliver on a plane higher than anybody Harry had ever known. And not just that, Oliver had practically sworn his life away to Harry with considerable ease. With the Dreamless Draught taking effect, Harry drifted off into a peaceful sleep, wonderful thoughts about his future with Oliver floating around inside his head. He had never been more at peace with the world, and the world had never been more at peace with him.


	22. Structural Collapse

**Chapter Twenty Two – Structural Collapse**

"Harry! Oliver!" Hermione's voice shouted through the door, "Get up! Mum and dad went to work an hour ago."

Harry groaned as he opened his eyes, adjusting to the early-winter sunlight that was filling the room through the gaps in the blinds. Yet another night of peaceful sleep to add to the list. I really must thank Professor Snape, Harry thought to himself. It came as shock that the was thinking that; before Halloween Harry would never have even dreamed about thanking Professor Snape, but yet he now felt that he owed the man his life.

Oliver stirred next to Harry. He started rubbing his eyes as he, too, became reacquainted with wakefulness. He yawned loudly.

"Morning, my Little Snitch," he smiled sweetly and pulled Harry into a gentle kiss, "Last night was amazing."

"It's always amazing with you, Ollie," Harry said and snuggled into Oliver's tight, muscled chest.

"Are you two up yet?" Hermione shouted again, "I want to get to the library early so that we can have as much time as we need to look for the book mum was telling us about."

"I completely forgot," Harry said to Oliver so that Hermione couldn't hear him, "I was too busy shagging you senseless."

"Believe me, I don't think I have much sense today," Oliver laughed, "It really was incredible. I was kinda disappointed that it had to end, really. I could have gone on all night!"

"Come on! Get up!" Hermione's shrill voice trilled once again, "I don't care if you're having sex, we're leaving in forty minutes!"

"Alright, alright," Harry sighed, "We're getting up now."

Harry and Oliver climbed out of bed and started to put their clothes on. Harry repaired Oliver's torn trousers with a simple wave of his hand and watched as the fabric reconnected and weaved itself back into place. Oliver picked up his wand and waved it at the sofa-bed which cleaned itself and sprung back into a regular sofa. Now fully-dressed, they walked out into the kitchen where Ron and Hermione were sat at the table and eating a breakfast of bacon, egg and sausages. A small jug of orange juice sat in front of them.

"Don't just stand there. Come and have some breakfast," said Ron, and Harry and Oliver complied, each taking a seat at the table. The two chairs that Hermione had conjured the previous night had gone.

"So what's the plan for today?" Oliver asked as he scraped food onto his and Harry's plates while Harry filled two glasses with orange juice.

"We're going to go to the library today and look for that book," Hermione said flatly, "I'm getting so sick of not being able to dream, it's driving me crazy. We've got to do something about this Nocturnimagus, and quick."

"Hermione's right," said Ron through a mouthful of bacon, "I feel like I'm losing my mind. I used to love dreaming but now I can't even remember what dreams feel like."

"I know what you mean," Oliver agreed, "I can't even remember the last time I had a pleasant dream."

"Same," said Harry.

"What puzzles me," said Hermione and took a drink of juice, "Is why they've put a book about magic in a Muggle library. That completely goes against the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy!"

"We'll just have to ask Lavender Brown's dad," said Harry as he took swallowed a particularly large mouthful of sausage, "According to her, he works in the Department of Ancient Affairs at the Ministry of Magic. I'll bet you anything that that's where we'll find the most information about Vinculum Duo _and _get a reason as to why it's in a Muggle library."

"I don't know, Harry," said Oliver, "Mrs Granger seemed to know quite a bit about it, considering she's a Muggle. Maybe there's more to this than we first thought."

"I see Oliver's point," said Hermione, "The Nocturnimagi aren't exactly something that the Ministry would want people remembering."

"Then why put the book in the Muggle world?" said Ron, "Didn't the Nocturnimagi wipe out a tenth of the Muggle population back in the 5th Century?"

"Yes, but there won't be any books about the Nocturnimagi in the Muggle world because of the simple fact that it's _magic_. There aren't any books on magic in the Muggle world actually, apart from Muggle magic which is just sleight of hand and other ways of fooling your mind. This seems like something of an inside job at the Ministry, if you ask me."

"We're wasting time," said Harry as he finished his breakfast, "We need to get to the library now and see what it is that Vinculum Duo is exactly. It just might be the answer to our problems."

At those words a large, unfamiliar barn owl flew in through an open window, soared across the kitchen and landed on the table with a crash, sending the plates and jugs clattering to the floor and causing orange juice and bacon to scatter across the tiles, a ruffled piece of brown parchment tied tightly around the owl's leg.

"Bloody owl!" Ron moaned as he tried to catch his plate, but missed, watching in despair as his breakfast clattered to the floor.

Hermione untied the scruffy-looking letter from the owl's leg and fed it a piece of toast that she was about to eat. She unfurled the parchment and stared at the note, transfixed for a minute, before assuming a look of utmost horror.

"Harry, we need to get back to Hogwarts as soon as we can," she said, her voice trembling, "It's bad."

"What's wrong?" said Ron worriedly, "What's happened?"

Hermione didn't answer. She stood up from the table in silence and ran into the passage to grab their coats, taking the note with her. Even though they knew nothing about what was making Hermione so anxious all of a sudden Harry, Ron and Oliver took it as a sign to get their things and head out as soon as they could. They gathered their things in silence and walked out of the door into the crisp winter air.

It was bitterly cold outside and attacked every inch of their skin as the freezing wind whipped their faces with an unrelenting ferocity such that they were numb within a matter of minutes. Hermione led them out the rusty old gate, maintaining her deadly silence, and turned right, walking quickly past the other houses on the street and turning a corner onto a busy road lined with shops and, at the end of another turn, the library where Mrs Granger had told them about stood towering over the other comparably-miniscule buildings. They walked, still in silence, towards the building. The brickwork looked worn and eroded, the windows appearing very murky and grimy and streaked with what looked unpleasantly like bird droppings. As the quartet walked in through the library doors, there was a pungent smell of mould and damp in the air that lingered around their nostrils. The library was huge, and three storeys high. A sea of books and bookcases were squeezed tightly together, the cracked ceiling hovering dangerously close to the very top of each bookcase, the old oak scraping the chipped plaster as a cold draught flowed in through the gaps beneath the walls and caused the bookcases to sway, and teeter lethally.

"Ugh," Hermione groaned in disgust, "Now I remember why I stopped using this library. Let's just hurry up and find that book. If we go our separate ways, we should be able to find it much quicker. We need to get to the castle as soon as we can."

An old man who was sat at a nearby table looked up at them at the mention of the word 'castle' and gave them a calculating stare. It was rather unnerving to Harry as he felt the man's eyes carefully scrutinising every part of him, as though he were a bit of muck on a clean carpet.

"Ron and I will go this way," said Hermione pointing to her left where there was a long line of carts and trolleys piled high with books, "and you and Oliver can go that way," she finished and pointed towards a long row of bookshelves to her right.

Without another word, the group split and headed in their separate directions. The tension in the air was tangible, and along with the overall creepiness of the dim and dank library, Harry felt that he would like no more than to merely find the book they were after and leave. After thirty minutes of agonising searching without any results, something stirred out of the corner of Harry's eye that seemed all too familiar; a filing cabinet had begun to shake violently against the mouldy chipped wall behind it. A couple of young children sat at a table nearby jumped in fright and ran away from the shuddering cabinet.

At that moment the librarian came bustling round a corner carrying a long sweeping brush. She was an elderly woman, with a pink-blotched face and deep-set wrinkles on her loose, sagging skin.

"Bloody Boggart!" she muttered to herself and started hitting the filing cabinet with the brush, making an even louder clanging as the wood made contact with the cold metal. When the old woman noticed Harry and Oliver standing staring at her, she froze in fright, "Oh - er - don't mind me, dearies. Just talking to myself, going crazy in my old age. No such things as Boggarts. Forget I ever mentioned them."

And then under her breath once again as she shuffled away, "Almost telling Muggles about Boggarts. Very clever, Dora. Oh, Fudge'll have my guts for this…"

"A Boggart?" said Oliver, "What's a Boggart doing in a Muggle library?"

"Beats me," Harry replied, and the old woman stood dead in her tracks.

"D-did you say Muggle?" she stammered as she turned round to face Harry and Oliver, "Y-you're wizards? Goodness gracious! I thought I recognised you two! You're Harry Potter and Oliver Wood! Could you both help me out and get rid of this Boggart for me? I'd do it myself only I'm a… well… I'm a Squib."

"Of course," Oliver smiled, "Harry, open the cabinet for me."

"Right," said Harry, walking over to the cabinet and grabbing a drawer, "But before I do, what's your Boggart, Ollie?"

"A Dementor," Oliver said darkly. The old woman shuddered at the thought of them. Something stirred inside Harry. Oliver's Boggart was the same as his, and it felt Harry with a sudden feeling of closeness quite unlike anything he'd felt with Oliver before. He stood there admiring Oliver for several moments, gazing at him, before he readied himself for the struggle against the Boggart.

"Ready?" he asked Oliver, who nodded, although he was clearly beginning to regret his decision as he stood there, quivering slightly.

"R-Ready…" he said unconvincingly.

Harry pulled the drawer out from the filing cabinet. Almost immediately, the entire library began to grow cold. The Boggart, in the form of a Dementor, rose up out of the filing cabinet, drawing long, rattling breaths, its rotten clammy hands protruding out from beneath a thick black cloak which covered its featureless face, revealing only a hole where its mouth should have been. Harry could feel a white mist beginning to close in on him as the Dementor's effects took over. He was swirling in fog, waiting anxiously for Oliver to make a move and cast a Patronus at the Dementor, but the older boy stood there, rooted to the ground and mumbling inaudibly.

"O-Oliver! Cast a Patronus!" Harry shouted, but he wasn't sure why; it was still eerily quiet in the library.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Oliver shouted and pointed his wand at the Dementor.

To Harry's immense relief, a white light burst from the end of Oliver's wand and aimed directly for the Dementor-Boggart's chest, charging directly at it and sending it crashing into one of the bookcases nearby. The librarian shrieked as hundreds of books began to topple onto the floor. It then became apparent to Harry what Oliver's Patronus took the form of, watching it solidify from being a mere wisp of light into something much more profound, more majestic; a stag, shining brightly against the miserable backdrop of the library's countless books and gloomy walls, its effervescent glow warming Harry immensely as the Dementor-Boggart's effects began to wear off.

"Quick," Oliver panted and lowered his wand, the beautiful stag ebbing away into nothingness, "Finish it while it's weak."

Harry nodded and pointed his wand at the Dementor that was now slumped against one of the bookcases.

"_Riddikulus!_" he cried.

In a flash of bright light, followed by a small explosion of thick black smoke, the Demetor-Boggart vanished.

Books littered the floor, their bookcases laying next to them on the chipped stone surface.

"Thank you, gentlemen!" the librarian chirped, "It's been in there for weeks but there hasn't been a single witch or wizard nearby to give me a hand with it. Although, I might have to ask you to put everything back in its original place. This book goes here, this book goes there, that book…"

Her voice was quickly becoming highly irritating for Harry, and he was filling with the urge to shout at her to shut up and do it herself, there was a perfectly useful ladder standing against one of the walls, but he decided against it; the encounter with the Dementor-Boggart had revealed some surprising home truths about Oliver, ones that made him feel so much closer to the older boy, ones that only made the connection between them seem that much stronger, more prevalent.

It appeared as though the commotion in the library had drawn some highly undesirable attention; the children that had ran away when the filing cabinet rattled were now standing, awe-struck and staring at the scene before them.

"_Witches and_ _Wizards?_" they whispered excitedly to each other, "Did she just say witches and wizards?"

Ron and Hermione were running down past the bookcases in their direction.

"What happened?" said Ron, his cheeks flushed the same bright copper as his hair, "We heard banging."

"It's quite obvious what the banging was, Ronald," said Hermione, "Look at all the bookcases and books on the floor, you two!" she shouted accusingly, "You ought to get them pi-"

"Hermione, shhhhhhh!" Harry said, "_Muggles_," he mouthed, pointing to the children who were speaking hurriedly.

"A Memory Charm ought to do it, I think," said Oliver and waved his wand in the air at the Muggle children.

A golden glow enshrouded their heads and they collapsed to the floor, unconscious.

"I hate having to do it on kids," said Oliver as he levitated the children's unconscious forms onto a nearby table, "But if we need to keep the wizarding world a secret, there's nothing we can do."

He flicked his wand in the air at the old man who had stared at them as they walked in. Another golden glow encapsulated his head and he slumped forward onto the table in front, unconscious.

"What have you replaced their memories with?" said Hermione.

"Just that they feel asleep while doing homework," said Oliver, "It'll explain to them why they find themselves waking up at a desk with paper in front of them. Now, for these bookcases. Sorry about that, by the way," he said to the librarian.

"Oh, it's not a problem, Mr Wood," the old woman smiled, "You know, my daughter's got quite an obsession with you…"

"Really?" said Oliver and secretly smirked at Harry, who smirked back, "How old is she?" he asked politely as waved his wand. Several of the bookcases lifted themselves upright and their books were sent whizzing past into their original locations.

"She's twenty one," the librarian said, "I could intro-"

"Sorry, madam, but I'm afraid I'm already taken," Oliver said and kissed Harry on the cheek, "Don't you read the Daily Prophet?"

"Yes, of course I do," said the librarian, "I just assumed that that story about you and Harry was a load of old codge. I saw that the story was written by Rita Skeeter…"

"Well, at least someone doesn't believe Rita Skeeter's stories," said Hermione, "Ron, do your mum or dad read the Daily Prophet?"

"I don't think they do. Not since Rita Skeeter wrote about dad wanting to _kill_ Muggles instead of protecting them. That was during the summer."

"The summer?" Harry repeated, "So she hasn't seen any articles about me and Oliver?"

"I don't think so, no," said Ron.

"That explains why she hasn't sent me any letters about it," Harry said, "She doesn't even know I'm gay _and_ going out with Oliver."

"Come to think of it," said Oliver, "I haven't told my grandmother either. With her being a Muggle and everything she won't get the Daily Prophet. Oh no…" he whined, "Harry, she's going to want to meet you."

"That's good, isn't it?" said Harry, "I want to meet her, too."

"It _would_ be good," said Oliver, "Except she's going to find any reason she can to get you to stay the night. My grandmother's always been one for hospitality, although sometimes she over-exerts herself."

"Harry, mum'll want to meet Oliver," said Ron, "I'll need to send her a letter soon to tell that you'll be bringing someone along at Christmas, but I won't mention anything about who it is; it'll be up to you to tell her when you see her."

Harry clapped a hand to his forehead; the topic of Christmas had drained from his mind with the intrusion of the Nocturnimagus, but at least the occasion gave him something to look forward to. There was no telling how long it would take to get rid of the Nocturnimagus, if it was even possible; they still hadn't found the book on Vinculum Duo and time was running out. They were needed up at Hogwarts and Hermione wasted no time in telling them that they were all running late.

"Come on, you three!" she said suddenly and started walking briskly towards the doors as Harry and Oliver replaced the last of the books and bookcases, Ron running to catch up with her, "We're running late! We need to be back at Hogwarts!"

"Wait up, Hermione!" Harry called as he and Oliver ran out of the library after them, "You're forgetting the book about Vinc-"

"Shush!" Hermione shouted back and turned round a corner into a deserted and run-down alleyway, "I've got the book!" she said and thrust it into Harry's hands after he entered the dim alleyway.

It looked old and worn. Cobwebs hung from the corners of the heavy, blue leather-bound book. A large brass lock, clamped on the spine, seemed to hold the book firmly shut. But there was something strange about this lock; it had no keyhole. Harry was about to ask Hermione how she knew it was the right book but then he read the title:

_Ancient Magic and its Uses_

"Hermione, where did you find this?" Harry quizzed, surprised at surprisingly quick nature of the find.

"In the 'magic' section, funnily enough," said Hermione, "If the book _was_ being hid in that library the one who hid it didn't exactly do a great job of it; it was on a shelf full of books about Muggle magic. Kind of obvious, really. But we really need to get back to Hogwarts," she added worriedly, "I received a Patronus while Ron was looking through the children's books. Harry, it's bad."

"What is?" asked Harry.

"You'll see when we get there."

Grabbing Ron's arm tightly, she Disapparated with a loud _crack_. Oliver curled his arm under Harry's and Disapparated, too.

They Apparated outside The Three Broomsticks with two consecutive loud cracks, causing several wizards nearby to jump and spill their pints of butterbeer down their robes.

"Stupid kids! Look what you made me do!" one of them snapped.

"Nobody gives a damn about your stupid butterbeer!" Hermione retorted, "_Stupefy!_"

The other wizard, who had just drawn his wand, was sent hurtling backwards and collided with the stone wall of The Three Broomsticks. He slumped to the hard wet concrete, unconscious.

"Bloody hell, Hermione!" exclaimed Ron, "What's got into you?"

Hermione ignored him and stormed off in the direction of the castle. She was walking so fast that it was incredibly difficult for Harry and the others to keep up with her. She seemed to take three strides to every one of their own.

"This is useless," Oliver said and gave up trying to follow Hermione, "_Accio brooms!_"

Oliver's, Harry's and Ron's brooms came whizzing out of the castle towards them, almost knocking Hermione over in their hurry, yet the determined young witch seemed unfazed by the near-miss. Instinctively, Harry, Ron and Oliver clambered onto their brooms and kicked off hard, speeding towards Hermione. At least now they were able to keep up with her as she steamed ahead towards Hogwarts.

"I'm really worried about her," Ron muttered to the others as they glided above Hermione, "She hasn't said anything about what was in that letter this morning, or what the Patronus told her earlier."

The group was greeted by a stampede of students screaming and shouting as they flooded out through the double doors to the entrance hall, which seemed significantly smaller as the never-ending throng of students compressed themselves against the old oak while they attempted to flee something as yet unseen by Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver. It was pure chaos, and Hermione was almost trampled to death by the constantly-growing herd of students. Ron had managed to swoop down just in time to save her from a gruesome end at the feet of a burly fifth-year. She shrieked as she was pulled up onto Ron's broom by the scruff of her shirt. At last the constant stream of students seemed to be thinning out, and Harry, Ron, Oliver and Hermione made their way through the double doors to see what it was that was causing the anarchy. No sooner had they stepped over the threshold were they thrown back by an invisible force. It felt as though someone had swung a giant sledgehammer straight into their chests. Harry could feel several of his ribs crack as he and the others landed with heavy thuds onto the wet grass outside, grunting heavily as the wind was knocked out of their systems. They groaned in pain.

Another loud crash erupted from the entrance hall and the four hourglasses that counted house points were hurled out of the castle, knocking the double doors off their hinges and sending them clattering across the lawns and down to the lakeside where the students had now gathered, terrified and bloodied. The emeralds, rubies, sapphires and ambers in the hourglasses spilled out onto the wet muddy grass as the glass that held them shattered.

A deep roar shook the foundations of the castle and several jets of red light burst out of the gaping hole left in the hourglasses' wake, impacting with what was left of the wall outside and tearing away the stone in a cloud of dust and debris, sending pebbles of all shapes and sizes cascading down upon Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver, with several of the fragments scratching the surface of their faces.

The students down by the lake screamed, and the forms of Professors McGonagall, Snape, Trelawney, Flitwick and Sprout were hauled through the cloud of dust that refused to settle, their attacker still unseen, and landed on the soggy grass, the muddy soil spitting water up at them. All of them were unconscious, apart from Professor Trelawney who grunted loudly as she hit the mud, her many bangles clattering cacophonously. Her bug-like eyes wide, her face covered in blood, she muttered, in a voice other than her own, to a breathless Harry, before her head fell back into the wet grass, unconscious. Trelawney's words baffled Harry, and no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn't work out what it was she was telling him. Yet the words rang clearly through his mind.

"One month's possession of the phoenix shall spell the end, unify yourselves and fight…"


	23. Flight of the Phoenix

**Chapter Twenty Three – Flight of the Phoenix**

"_Episkey!_"

Harry laid a hand over his broken ribs and felt the warm glow starting to heal the bones. The dull pain that they had held dissipated and Harry was soon able to stand upright, ready to face whatever it was that was attacking the teachers and students. The cloud of dust seemed to be refusing to settle, and fragments of stone were still cascading down from the shuddering castle as the thing in the entrance hall continued to roar.

Several echoing steps rang out from the hall and announced that their attacked was about to make themselves known. Out from the billowing brown cloud of dust emerged a figure that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver recognised all too well; standing menacingly in front of the crumbling wall, red eyes aglow with evil intent, its black cloak trailing far behind it into the entrance hall, deep hoarse breaths filling the eerily-silent air. All noise coming from the Lake had ceased, and the students stood there frozen, their faces enshrouded in horror.

"N-Nocturnimagus!" a second-year girl shrieked.

With a deep loud growl and thrust of its hand, the Nocturnimagus sent a huge shockwave surging towards Harry. Harry ducked and threw himself to the floor. The speed of the shockwave was too fast for the students down by the lakeside to react in time; each and every one of them was knocked directly off their feet and sent soaring through the air, eventually plunging deep into the icy water of the Black Lake.

Ron was climbing to his feet now, his hand gripping his wand tightly, ready to fight.

"Harry! Use your powers!" he shouted, "Get the students out of the Lake. I'll try and hold the Nocturnimagus off!"

"You believe you stand a chance against me, do you?" the Nocturnimagus growled viciously.

"Harry, GO!" Hermione bellowed, "I'll help Ron! Oliver, you go with Harry!"

The pressure of the situation was almost unbearable, and something inside Harry clicked. Wishing that he was on a broom so that he could move faster, Harry pictured himself kicking off hard and heading to help the students who were now turning a deep shade of blue as the cold set in. But as he began to think this he found himself soaring through the air, completely unaided, towards the students who were starting to huddle together to keep themselves warm. Without realising what Harry had managed to do, Oliver picked up his own broom and kicked off hard, heading after Harry.

Looking back up at the castle, Harry could see that the battle had already begun. Curses and jinxes flew in all directions as Ron and Hermione fought to keep the Nocturnimagus at bay, but it seemed to be having little effect. The Nocturnimagus was cackling wildly as every spell cast at it rebounded and collided with the stone of the castle walls, dust and debris billowing out from the impact zones.

"Hermione, nothing's working!" Ron shouted as he narrowly dodged a jet of green light shot at him, "What can we do?"

"All we can do is try to hold-"

The Nocturnimagus made a sudden slashing movement with its hand from which flew a streak of what looked like purple flame. It passed right across Hermione's chest; she gave a tiny "oh!" as though of surprise and then crumpled to the soggy grass.

"Hermione!" Ron screamed, "I'll kill you! _AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

A jet of green light burst from the end of Ron's wand, emitting a rushing sound as it whizzed through the air towards the Nocturnimagus. It hit it squarely in the chest, sending it careening back through the gaping hole in the castle wall.

"Yes!" Ron shouted in triumph, "Harry, the Nocturnimagus is-"

"RON, DUCK!" Harry bellowed back as the black-cloaked figure sent a Killing Curse heading directly for Ron. Just as the curse was about to strike, Harry waved his hand down and forced Ron into the mud, and the jet rushed directly over Ron's head and collided with a nearby tree, setting it ablaze.

Harry spread his hand wide and then closed it into a tight fist. A large group of the students in the Lake were squashed together by an unseen force, and then lifted directly out of the icy water, some of them shrieking as they were levitated across onto the shore. Without thinking about what he was doing, Harry swept his arm wide and sent a bright flame streaking through the air and circling round the tight-packed students, warming them all up and drying their robes.

"Oliver, I've got this! Go and help Ron!" Harry shouted as he scooped another group of students out of the water and dried them with his flames.

Oliver nodded and kicked at the side of his broom. He soared off in Ron's direction just as the Nocturnimagus began to ready itself for another attack.

"_Stupefy!_" he shouted and aimed his wand at the Nocturnimagus, which flew backwards into the entrance hall as a jet of red light hit it in the chest. It roared louder than ever before as it emerged once again from the entrance hall through a thick cloud of dust and debris, its black cloak covered in filth. The castle was now visibly shaking on its foundations, the windows rattled in their panes. Oliver landed next to Ron and stumbled slightly as he touched down a little harder than he would have liked. Their wands were drawn and they were ready to fight.

"Be gone, Mr Weasley!" the Nocturnimagus growled and made a motion as though it was swinging a baseball bat.

Ron was sent careening towards the flaming tree like a baseball, whistling through the air as his speed increased. He slammed into the trunk with such force that the entire tree was uprooted, and Ron was soon flying away from the scene, his consciousness ebbing away, towards the Forbidden Forest, the burning tree crashing down onto the grass and rolling down to the lakeside, where the huddle of students dispersed in order to avoid being crushed. Eventually, Ron tumbled onto the grass on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. He was unconscious, and vast amounts of blood began to pool at the side of his head.

With the students now safely back on the shore, Harry set off towards the castle in a blur of movement. Golden sparks now trailed out behind him as he glided seamlessly through the air.

A feeling of pure hatred was beginning to stir within him and as he gazed at the unconscious forms of the teachers, and Ron and Hermione, this feeling was amplified beyond measure. He didn't care about finding out who the Nocturnimagus was now, all he cared about was ending this once and for all, and killing whoever it was that had tried so valiantly over the last couple of months to make his life a misery.

Harry splashed down onto the grass beside Oliver, the power of the four elements whirling round inside him.

"What are you after?" he shouted to the Nocturnimagus.

"Oh, you don't know?" the Nocturnimagus said, "The great Harry Potter, love-bearer extraordinaire, has no idea what a loveless Nocturnimagus is after?"

"Love…" Oliver mumbled, "The elements… You're after Harry's powers!"

"Well done, Mr Wood," the Nocturnimagus said sarcastically, "Did you work that out all by yourself, or did Mrs Potterwood, who might I add is now dead, help you there? You cannot resist me; Vinculum Duo will not work here, there is no point in invoking its power. Oh wait, you don't know how to, do you?" it added with an evil grin that, for the first time, revealed a set of pointed yellow teeth.

"_Accio book!_" said Harry and the thick blue-leather book came soaring out of Hermione's bag and whizzed through the air into his outstretched hand, "We'll find out soon en-"

"_Depulso!_" the Nocturnimagi growled and sent the book hurtling out of Harry's hands and towards the congregation down by the lake. The students there were watching with a mixture of great interest and terror, but some of them seemed to be taking bold steps towards the castle, their wands primed and ready for a fight, "I TOLD YOU THAT THE BOOK WOULD BE USELESS!" it roared, "AVADA-"

"_Stupefy!_" said five simultaneous voices from beside Harry; Professors Trelawney, McGonagall, Flitwick, Snape and Sprout were steadying themselves as they stood back up, bloodied and covered in mud.

Five bright red jets of light burst forth and catapulted the Nocturnimagus into the air, before sending it flying high above Hogwarts and down onto the roof, where it began to slide back down, hitting and bouncing off each slate tile that it hit until it toppled over the edge of the roofs and hurtled towards the ground, eventually hitting the wet concrete with a deafening thud.

"Severus, wake Miss Granger and Mr Weasley," said Professor McGonagall, "We have to find Alb-"

"YOU'LL HAVE TO DO BETTER THAN THAT!" the Nocturnimagus had sprang back to its feet, apparently unharmed by the barrage of Stunning spells that hit it, "_EVERTE STATUM!_"

Harry and Oliver watched as four of the five teachers were hurled away from the castle, flipping and twirling in midair, and plunged directly into the icy depths of the Black Lake. The students gathered there initiated a rescue attempt and started to pull the dizzy teachers out of the cold water. The only teacher who remained unaffected was Professor McGonagall, who had managed to wake Hermione up and create a huge blue shield between them and the Nocturnimagus.

"Potter, open that book and read what it has to say about Vinculum Duo!" she demanded, "I'll hold the Nocturnimagus at bay. You too, Wood! GO ON, GO!" she shrieked as the shield in front of them began to falter and fade when a fresh maelstrom of curses from the Nocturnimagus bombarded it in a never-ending stream. But before Harry and Oliver had time to react, the shield had smashed completely and Professor McGonagall was now engaging the Nocturnimagus in a furious duel, "GO!"

Harry and Oliver flew away from the scene as fast as they could and landed safely in Hogsmeade.

"Have you got the book?" Oliver said hurriedly as he dismounted his broom.

"Shit, it's down by the Lake still!" Harry realised as he landed flat on his feet, "_Accio book!_"

The thick leather-bound book came soaring through the air away from the castle and into Harry's outstretched arms once more. He tried to open it, but the lock on the side of the book prevented him from prising apart its pages.

"What do I do?" Harry shouted in exasperation, "How the hell am I supposed to open this fucking thing!"

The in bright golden letters, above the title, appeared what looked like instructions.

_The Bond of Two shall break the seal…_

"The Bond of Two…" Harry muttered.

"Harry, don't you get it?" said Oliver suddenly, "The Bond of Two is referring to two people who share a connection so precious, so loving that it is impossible to break it! Think about it; we both adore Quidditch, our Patronuses are both stags, our Boggarts are both Dementors, neither of us can stand to see our loved ones in pain, the list goes on! And don't forget that you have the power of love which means only one thing; _we can use Vinculum Duo_!"

Harry looked up and stared at Oliver. Oliver was right.

"Come here," said Harry and he thrust the book into Oliver's hand, still maintaining his own grip on the now sweat-covered leather.

As soon as the book hit Oliver's sweaty hand a huge column of white light engulfed them and drew them up from the wet grass. The light was hot and purifying. Every spot of dirt on Harry and Oliver's skin was wiped clean off, disintegrating in front of their very eyes and exhaled out of the blinding pillar in a cloud of black smoke. Their hands welded to the book, Harry and Oliver gazed at each other as golden bolts of lightning crackled down from the sky above and circled the column of light. As the golden lightning filled the air around Harry and Oliver the sky suddenly grew a lot darker and raindrops the size of Quaffles began to cascade down upon them, causing massive splashes of water as the droplets began to hammer the already-saturated earth. But as the rain continued to grow heavier, the air suddenly became cold, and the drops soon turned to ice. The ice balls pelted the ground and burrowed deeply into the pock-marked earth. Residents were running wildly round the village, men, women and children all running for cover from the sudden storm of ice. But then the hail stopped and the air was filled with a deafening silence, broken only by the gentle rustling of distant trees in a light breeze. A low rumbling shuddered beneath the earth, causing deep cracks to appear in the ground, geysers of lava erupting out of them and spilling over onto the wet ground at either side, a loud sizzling piercing the eerily-calm air.

It all happened in just under a minute and before Harry and Oliver could get to grips with the chaos around them the world reverted back to normal, the lava shrinking away into the fault lines, the earth healing itself, the ice balls shooting back up into the sky and the ground becoming dry.

The lock on the book shot from the spine and flew away into the distance. The light surrounding engulfing them receded in on itself, drawing up from the ground and down from the sky until eventually it stopped, leaving Harry and Oliver encapsulated in an orb of white light. Something invisible began to compress Harry and Oliver together. Before they knew it they were face-to-face and their entire bodies were squeezed tightly together. Then the pressure was released.

There was an explosion like a cannon, and the golden lightning surrounding the white orb crackled through the air, followed closely by a billowing white cloud of pure energy that spread rapidly, leaving only Harry and Oliver floating in the air with a golden mist swirling around in their eyes. The witches and wizards below stood trembling and confused at what they had just seen.

Finally able to move once again, Harry and Oliver floated back down to the ground. They felt energised and full of power, and they knew that they were now ready for the fight ahead. Harry looked down at the book in his hand, and he gasped when he saw that the pages in the book were in fact blank.

"Oliver, look at this," he said and showed Oliver the blank pages, "Why isn't there any-"

"The phoenix has been possessed, and the world shall fall on the twenty fifthday of the twelfth month," Oliver said, and gave Harry the book back, "That's Christmas."

There, on the pages that had previously been blank, was writing in curly golden letters that glowed brightly against the dim sky above.

_The phoenix has been possessed, and the world shall fall on the twenty fifth day of the twelfth month. The union of souls is the path to salvation, for the longer that the phoenix is possessed, the stronger the Nocturnimagi grow. Release the phoenix and the dream-dweller will be forced back into the dream world._

"The phoenix?" said Oliver, "What's the phoenix?"

"I don't know, but I think we're about to find out. Get your wand ready, we're in for another fight!"

Oliver fumbled in his clothes for his wand, but it wasn't there.

"Harry, I've lost my wand! It's gone!"

He felt around in his other pockets to find his wand.

"No…" he muttered to himself, "Harry, look at my wand!"

Oliver pulled a handful of brown dust out of his pocket where his wand been. But the book glowed gold once again, and Harry and Oliver's attentions were drawn back to the writing, which had changed.

_The Bond of Two has been invoked. Wands are useless. Use your bodies to channel your magic. From now on the struggle lies with you. Good luck._

Then book emitted a high-pitched shriek like a Banshee and vanished in a puff of smoke.

High above Harry and Oliver the Nocturnimagus was descending through the air, its teeth bared, its black cloak filthy and tattered. Strewn over its shoulder was the limp form of Professor McGonagall, whose mouth lolled open as the Nocturnimagus carelessly let her fall to Harry's and Oliver's feet.

"She's not dead, unfortunately," the Nocturnimagus growled viciously, "It appears that the phoenix is struggling against me, but the old man shall not succeed."

"Old man…" Harry muttered to himself. And then it hit him, "Dumbledore!"

"Exactly. The old man was foolish to believe that he could take me down without the power of love," the Nocturnimagus laughed evilly, "I have him in my possession and there is nought that you can do to- what are you doing?"

Almost automatically Harry and Oliver clasped their hands together and stood staring at the Nocturnimagus with rage burning within their bodies. Flames burst upwards from their feet and engulfed the pair, licking out towards the Nocturnimagus like a rabid dog on a leash. The air suddenly turned cold, and a deep whistling echoed around the now-empty high street. A rush of wind began to swirl around Harry, Oliver and the Nocturnimagus.

"NOW!" Harry and Oliver shouted together and thrust their hands in the direction of the Nocturnimagus. The air suddenly surged inwards and picked up the flames that were surrounding Harry and Oliver. With another movement of their hands they sent the flames streaking across the high street towards the Nocturnimagus. Without any chance to react, the Nocturnimagus was caught with the full blast of the flames.

The Nocturnimagus roared, and thrashed about savagely as it became engulfed by the flames, which towered above the high street like a blazing deity, watching over the entirety of Hogsmeade as though protecting it from the demon trapped within. The Nocturnimagus' hood withered and turned to ashes, revealing the face beneath.

Dumbledore, wrinkles etched deep into his face like canyons, stood before them, his once-long white beard now sullied with ash and dirt, his eyes glowing a malevolent red, the whites of his eyes no longer visible. Scratches covered his sallow face like scars from a long-ago battle. But there were still signs of an ongoing struggle as the Nocturnimagus' voice switched between that of a monstrous growl to a hoarse plead for help. Dumbledore was trying to reach out to them.

"Harry, Oliver, please…" he croaked, though it seemed incredibly strange to see that same kind voice coming from a being that looked so utterly hate-filled and resentful, "K-kill me… If my body is possessed for a month… the Nocturnimagi will be able to return…"

But then the voice returned to that same evil growl as it had been before the Nocturnimagus' moment of weakness.

"You stupid old man!" it screamed, "Do you honestly believe that these two can defeat me?! _AVADA KEDAVRA!_"

A jet of green light exploded from the Nocturnimagus' hand and soared through the air with a sound like a rushing car. Harry and Oliver, somehow unfazed by their incoming fate, stood there with triumphant smirks covering their faces. Somehow, they knew that the Nocturnimagus' plan wouldn't work. And they were right. The curse rebounded off them like a tennis ball and was sent careening away from the scene, only to be lost in the sky above as it ascended through the air into the dark clouds.

"SHIT!" the Nocturnimagus screamed demonically and with a whirl of its cape it lifted off from the ground in a huge haze of black mist, flying away into the distance and beyond the horizon, the black fog trailing out behind it.

"NO!" Harry shouted and tried to give chase, but was held back by Oliver.

"No, Harry," said Oliver, "We've still got a month to track it down. But it's after your powers so it's bound to try and come back for you, which means that there's still a way for us to stop it."

"What are you suggesting?" Harry asked, "That we stop taking the Dreamless Draught?"

"Yes," said Oliver, "if we allow ourselves to dream the Nocturnimagus will be able to control them however he likes, but that might come as an advantage to us."

"How do you mean?"

"Don't forget, Harry, your power of love still protects you from dark magic," Oliver explained, "And if Vinculum Duo does what it sounds like it does, I'll bet you anything that I'll be protected by it, too."

"But we've been injured in our dreams before…" Harry said glumly.

"The injuries weren't sustained as a result of a dark magic," Oliver comforted Harry and stroked a finger down the younger boy's cheek, "We were injured in the real world because we were harmed by other objects. And the only reason that the power of love doesn't protect us from damage from other objects is because the effects of the Nocturnimagus aren't dark magic, strictly speaking, since they're obtained through birth, which is wholly natural and in no way dark."

"So you mean we can be cursed as much as the Nocturnimagus likes and we won't get so much as a scratch as long as we stay away from sharp objects?" Harry asked.

"Exactly," said Oliver, smiling.

"Oliver, do you realise what happened when we took hold of the book?" said Harry.

"Yeah, I do. We invoked Vinculum Duo," Oliver replied.

"Do you know what this means? It means that we're meant to be together," Harry grinned widely at the thought of him and Oliver spending the rest of their lives together.

"It does, doesn't it?" Oliver chuckled and gave Harry a gentle kiss.

"Harry! Oliver!" Ron and Hermione were running down the high street towards them.

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry shouted and ran towards them, with Oliver following closely behind.

"What the hell happened?" Ron asked, "All I can remember is being smashed through a flaming tree."

Harry told Ron and Hermione about how they had fled to Hogsmeade to open the book whilst Professor McGonagall fended off the Nocturnimagus. Their mouths dropped open when Harry told them about his and Oliver's invoking of Vinculum Duo's power.

"Where's the book?" Hermione said suddenly.

"Gone," said Oliver, "It disappeared after Harry and I invoked Vinculum Duo."

Hermione stood there staring into the distance, apparently lost in thought. After several minutes of silence, she could come up with no answer. A voice rose from behind Harry, groaning and grunting as its owner dragged itself up off the floor. It was Professor McGonagall.

"Professor!" said Hermione and she rushed to help Professor McGonagall to her feet, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall huffed, "I'm just a little bit exhausted. The blasted Nocturnimagus caught me off guard and stunned me with two spells at once."

"Where are the other teachers?" Oliver asked.

"They're up at the school rounding the other students up," said Ron, "From the looks on their faces, I'd say they were really worried about this whole Nocturnimagus business."

"And so they should be," said Harry.

He told Ron, Hermione and Professor McGonagall about the Nocturnimagus possessing the phoenix, which was Dumbledore.

"I should have known that this would happen," McGonagall said grimly.

"What are you talking about, Professor?" asked Hermione.

"Professor Dumbledore is the last descendant of the eldest family of love-bearers," explained Professor McGonagall, "But because he has not been affected by the gift directly, he retains only traces of the powers. He can perform freehand magic, but not control the elements like you can, Potter. He is also vulnerable to dark magic, whereas you are not, which means that it was very easy for the Nocturnimagus to infect his mind."

"But why Professor Dumbledore? Why not one of the students who couldn't defend themselves at all?" said Harry.

"Professor Dumbledore still carries the power of love within him, although he is unable to use it. This means that the Nocturnimagus has targeted him specifically because of his readily-available abilities, and because Dumbledore remains vulnerable to dark magic it is incredibly easy for the Nocturnimagus to possess him. But the Nocturnimagus did not count on the fact that the powers will remain dormant inside Dumbledore forever, and the only way for the Nocturnimagus to control just a small portion of these powers will require a lot of strength on its part, unless it can spend enough time in the host body to unlock the true power of love. The Nocturnimagus' possession of Coach Snortson before her murder shows that its power has been on the increase for a while now, and it has slowly been chipping away at Dumbledore's mental stamina before finally being able to take control. And now that it's got Dumbledore under its control, it is only a matter of time before it finally manages to break through and unlock Dumbledore's latent power of love."

"But I thought that Dumbledore would never be able to use the power of love," said Harry.

"He won't, but that is not to say that the Nocturnimagi won't. It will eventually find a way to bypass the genetic locks, much like it managed to bypass Dumbledore's own mental barricades, and tap into the power of love that has been stowed away inside his blood all these years."

"But the power of love isn't a birthright, is it? You have to get it from someone sacrificing themselves to save you."

"Yes, Potter, but the mark left behind from the power of love lives on in that person's blood, which is why Dumbledore was a carrier; his earliest recorded ancestor was one of the original love-bearers that took down the Nocturnimagi in the 5th Century, but the love-bearer was killed shortly after the birth of his first child at the hands of the returning Nocturnimagi. He, like the other original love-bearers, was driven into insanity by the Nocturnimagi. That was before the Ministry recruited love-bearers with the capacity for Vinculum Duo, which then led to the Nocturnimagi-free world that we have grown used to."

"So Vinculum Duo is the only way to stop the Nocturnimagus?" said Oliver.

"Yes. And the Nocturnimagus may well attempt to attack you again as it becomes stronger and siphons more power from Dumbledore."

"Why would it attack us?" said Harry, "Me and Oliver have just invoked Vinculum Duo. There's no way that it beat us. Once we find out where it is, we're going to hunt it down and kill it."

"If the Nocturnimagus manages to grasp just a fraction of the power dormant inside Dumbledore Vinculum Duo will no longer protect you from dark magic. Since the Nocturnimagus will gain the power to control the elements, it will be able to harm you in your dreams using natural forces."

"But if the Nocturnimagus gets the powers from Dumbledore, why will it still try to take them from Harry?" asked Hermione, "It'll already have everything it needs to control the forces of nature."

"It will only be able to control the forces of nature inside dreams," explained Professor McGonagall, "Siphoning powers from a descendent of a love-bearer will only enable the Nocturnimagus to use those powers in dreams; the potency needed to control the forces of nature in the real world can only be obtained through siphoning the powers of love-bearers directly. In other words, Potter, the Nocturnimagus will be able to siphon the powers from you."

"How would it be able to do that?" asked Ron.

"By using Dumbledore's powers against Harry," said McGonagall, "If Potter becomes damaged by one of the four elements in his dreams, the Nocturnimagus will be able to siphon some of Potter's powers because the pain inflicted will cause a slight fluctuation in his ability to control them. The Nocturnimagus can then grasp the uncontrolled powers and begin the process of drawing power slowly from Potter's body, but it will only be able to do this in short bursts; it will be far too tiring for the Nocturnimagus to draw power from Potter in one try, even if it managed to siphon all of Dumbledore's powers."

"So are you suggesting that we try to find the Nocturnimagus during the day, and then not dream at all at night?" said Oliver.

"No," Professor McGonagall said flatly, "I'm suggesting that you do _not_ try to find the Nocturnimagus at all. But I believe that you _should_ dream at night. You see, each time the Nocturnimagus confronts you in your dreams, you will also be able to siphon its powers if you manage to damage it somehow. The same principle applies here; you damage the Nocturnimagus, it loses control of some of its powers, leaving them open to be drawn away. But you won't be able to strip the Nocturnimagus of its powers like it will be able to with you. Potter, you must be very careful about how you tackle the Nocturnimagus. These methods were used back in the 5th Century, and many of those who used Vinculum Duo had their powers stripped away from them. If it wasn't for a select few that found a way to keep total control over their powers, the world as we know it right now may not have ever existed."

"How do I gain total control over my powers?" Harry asked.

"That," Professor McGonagall said, "I do not know. It is something you'll have to find out for yourself, I'm afraid."

"Since we've invoked Vinculum Duo," said Oliver, "Does that mean that I hold similar powers to Harry?"

"It is very likely, Wood."

"What's going to happen to the school now?" Hermione said suddenly, "Will the students have to go home? The castle has been practically destroyed."

"Professors Flitwick and Sprout are working to return the school back to how it was before the attack," said McGonagall, "As for the students, we'll be performing Memory Charms on them so that they can forget about the Nocturnimagus. They will be given Dreamless Draughts until Potter and Wood have taken down the Nocturnimagus. It's all up to you now," she added grimly, turning to face Harry and Oliver, "You have a month until the Nocturnimagus can return to full power. Good luck."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel and walked briskly towards the castle, her emerald-green cloak billowing behind in her rush. From the high street, Harry and Oliver could make out the unmistakably miniscule figure of Professor Flitwick flying on a broom around the castle, repairing bits of broken glass and fixing the brickwork at the sides of the castle, while Professor Sprout was busy reattaching the doors to the entrance hall.

Professor McGonagall's lengthy discussion had left Harry and Oliver with a lot to think about, not to mention a vast amount of confusing thoughts swimming around their heads; how had the Nocturnimagus survived a direct assault with Killing Curse? But one thing seemed to stick out to Harry, and it couldn't have made him feel safer or stronger; he now knew that he and Oliver were destined to be together, for they had both been unified by the most powerful bond imaginable; Vinculum Duo. He knew that the run up to Christmas was going to be anything but easy, but he was prepared for the fight ahead if it meant that Oliver would be fighting alongside him. Harry was determined to end the madness before his first Christmas with Oliver, and he was not going to let the Nocturnimagus manipulate them any longer. Now was the time to prepare. Now was the time to fight. Now was the time to show the power of:

The Bond of Two.


	24. Airborne Love

**Chapter Twenty Four – Airborne Love**

It took several hours before Professors Flitwick and Sprout had been able to return Hogwarts to its former glory, and the castle looked as stunning as ever. The sky had returned to normal and the old wooden double doors to the entrance hall now gleamed in the beautiful setting sun as the light danced over their newly-glossed surfaces, the stone walls had been repaired and appeared as though they had never been destroyed, and the windows now shone with an effervescent sparkle like they had been coated with glitter.

The students remained at the lakeside while the teachers repaired the castle, only a few them choosing to talk, and those that did made sure that nobody other than the people they were talking to would hear them. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver made their way back up to the castle to help Professor Flitwick reattach the last of the potted plants around the walls. Madame Pomfrey busied herself with taking care of the bloodied students and staff down by the Lake, which twinkled in the mid-evening sun.

"What about the parents, Professor?" asked Hermione Professor Flitwick as the short old man levitated the final plant back into its bracket, "Won't they need to be informed?"

"There won't be any point, Miss Granger," said Professor Flitwick, "Once Madame Pomfrey has finished with the students they will have recollection of the events earlier, or anything that might have happened during their dreams over the last couple of months."

"But that's-"

"The right thing to do," Oliver interrupted, "Think, Hermione. If the parents found out about this there'd be a huge panic. This whole thing will be over and done with by Christmas, and if the Nocturnimagus is drawing its powers from Dumbledore, and then coming after us for the full deal, the students won't be in any real danger."

"If that's the case why are the students being given Dreamless Draught?" Hermione argued, "Why give them the potion if they're going to be safe?"

"Memory Charms will not be enough in this case I'm afraid, Miss Granger," said Professor Flitwick as he began to walk down towards the students at the lake, talking as he went along, "The dark magic from the Nocturnimagus will interfere with the Memory Charms; the students could still continue to dream about the Nocturnimagus even though they will not remember it while they are awake. We're giving them Dreamless Draught to make sure that they do not dream about the Nocturnimagus, and hopefully the Memory Charms will be effective at stopping them from remembering."

Hermione opened her mouth to continue the argument but closed it once Harry, Oliver and Ron gave her warning glances.

"So are we just going to act like nothing happened?" Harry asked.

"Yes, Mr Potter. That's exactly what we're going to do. The Nocturnimagus gains its strength from fear so if we take away that particular source of power it will become weaker. But that isn't to say that there aren't other ways of the Nocturnimagus gathering strength, which is why it is imperative that you and Mr Wood do whatever it takes to get rid of this monster."

They had reached the lakeside and the students were huddled together, their faces now clean and their wounds healed thanks to Madame Pomfrey's exceptional work; they looked terrified, cowering and quaking where they stood. Only one word was audible from their mouths as they murmured between each other:

"Nocturnimagi."

Professors Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick, Trelawney and Sprout were stood around the huddle of students, large gaps separating them, with their wands raised and pointing towards the centre of the partial pentagon. There was a hushed silence as the students looked up at the teachers.

"What are you-"

A girl was cut off mid-sentence as five calls of "_Obliviate!_" rang through the air. A huge dome of golden energy encapsulated the students, and Harry, Ron, Oliver and Hermione merely stood there and watched as each of the students became dazed and light-headed. The students' eyes rolled around in their sockets and their tongues lolled about as their memories were wiped of any trace of the Nocturnimagus. With a flourish of the teachers' wands, the students fell to the floor in one great, huddled heap. Professor McGonagall gave her wand a final flick and each of the students was soon levitating above the ground, heading into the castle and to their dormitories.

"How do they expect to get everyone into their beds if the portraits are going to want their passwords?" Ron whispered to Harry.

"They will not ask for passwords, Ron," came Professor Snape's formerly-cold voice, which was now filled with an enthusiasm that was highly inappropriate for the grave situation, "Professor McGonagall has instructed the portraits to stay open to allow the students into their dormitories."

"How can McGonagall do that?" Ron asked, "I thought it was only the headmaster or headmistress that could give orders like that."

"Professor McGonagall _is_ the headmistress, Ron," said Hermione, "In Dumbledore's absence, she becomes the headmistress. That's why she's able to give the portraits orders like that."

It took almost half an hour before all of the students had been levitated up to the castle and to their dormitories, leaving Harry and the others as well as the teachers stood outside in the waning sunlight. The cold November air had began to set in and the sunlight, which was now struggling desperately against the encroaching horizon, did nothing to help matters. In fact, the sun made it seem colder than it would have done if there had been no sun at all, so Harry was glad when the weak orb of light disappeared below the distant vista. Harry and the others shivered as the cold night air crept over them, inching its way through their robes and hitting their bodies. They made every haste to go back to the caste and up to the Gryffindor common room, but Professor McGonagall had other ideas.

"Potter, Wood, I don't think it would be best if you slept in Gryffindor Tower," she said worriedly, "The Memory Charms could be broken completely if you begin to talk about the Nocturnimagus in your sleep. I suggest that you both sleep at your living quarters, Mr Wood."

Harry and Oliver nodded in understanding and gave each other secretive smirks at the knowledge that they would have as much privacy as they wanted; after the invocation of Vinculum Duo, they found themselves with a sudden appetite for each other, and they were both eager to satisfy their cravings.

"It's been a very eventful day," McGonagall continued, "I suggest that we all go to bed and try to get some sleep. We carry on as normal tomorrow, is that clear?" the teachers, Harry and the others nodded in agreement, "Not a single word of this to anyone. _Anyone_. If the Ministry finds out about this there'll be a mass panic across the wizarding world, and possibly even the Muggle world. Potter, Wood, everything remains with you two. You have until Christmas to get rid of the Nocturnimagus."

"Yes, Professor," said Harry, "How do we do that?"

"As I have already said, I do not know," said McGonagall, "The only thing I can suggest is fight, and fight hard. Do not be afraid. Do not hold back. And whatever you do, do _not_ lose, that part I cannot stress enough."

"No pressure there then," Harry said sarcastically.

Harry and Oliver set off for the Astronomy Tower, whilst Ron and Hermione and the other teachers headed into the castle.

"Do you think we're ready for a big fight like this?" Harry asked Oliver as they walked up the spiral stone stairs to Oliver's living quarters.

"I think we're more than ready," Oliver said, "We have Vinculum Duo protecting us. All we need to do is find the Nocturnimagus and kill it before it kills us."

"But we can't exactly go looking for it," said Harry, "We can't manipulate dreams like it can."

"Then we'll just have to wait for it to come to us, won't we?" Oliver smiled slightly and pushed open the door to his living quarters. It was as comforting and enticing as it had been when Harry had first set foot in here. The same plump couch sat in the middle of the room and the fire began to crackle merrily as they stepped over the threshold, its subtle orange glow cast over the walls and bookcases, and up across the ceiling, a gentle warmth filling Harry's body.

Oliver turned to face Harry. Harry could feel himself melting as he gazed longingly into his boyfriend's hypnotic hazel eyes, filling with a hunger so fervent that it was almost impossible to contain it. He was about to open his mouth to speak but was cut off as Oliver strode across the carpet and pressed their lips together in an enchanting kiss. Oliver pulled away and grinned cheekily.

"My Little Snitch," he said huskily as he stroked a finger down Harry's cheek, "I love you so much. It's taking everything I have not to make love to you right here."

"Why hold back?" Harry said in an equally-husky tone, "Ollie… my Keeper… make love to me. No foreplay, no holding back. I just want to give myself to you right here, right now. Baby, take me to the stars. I just wish there was a way to get naked faster…"

_Whoosh_

Harry and Oliver's clothes were torn away from their bodies in a tumultuous creak of tearing fabric, their trousers splitting at the seams, soaring through the air and flying out of the window. Their shirts were soon to follow and flew out into the night air, their underwear freed soon after and scuttled along the floor before climbing up the wall towards the open window.

"Holy shit!" Oliver laughed as he became naked, "Hang on, I have an idea. I wish that I had a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans!"

To Oliver's immense incredulity a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans materialised on the table in front of the couch. Harry's mouth gaped, as did Oliver's.

"I think we can have our wishes granted. Five galleons says that it's because of Vinculum Duo," said Oliver as he opened the box of sweets and tossed a bean to Harry, "Go on, try it. Let's see what you got."

Harry bit into the bean and almost threw up from the foul taste of tripe that was attacking his taste buds.

"Blergh!" he groaned in disgust, "Tripe!"

Oliver chuckled and drew a bean out of the box. He popped it into his mouth and chewed before his face screwed up as the taste of lemon assaulted his tongue.

"Not exactly the worst flavour," he commented and took the bean out of his mouth, "but it's not the best, either. Lemon."

"I love lemon! I wish that the flavour I got was lemon instead."

_Pop_

The half-eaten bean in Harry's hand changed from a sickly brown colour to the same vivid yellow as the bean that Oliver had tried to eat. He put it in his mouth and chewed, savouring the flavour of the lemon as his mouth watered at the delicious taste.

"Hold on, if our wishes get granted shouldn't we be able to just wish the Nocturnimagus away?" said Harry.

"I don't know. Let's have a little experiment; wish for me to be in the bathroom," Oliver suggested.

"OK. I wish that Oliver was in the bathroom," Harry said.

Nothing happened.

"I wish that Harry was in the bedroom," said Oliver.

Still nothing.

"I wish I knew where Dumbledore was," said Harry.

Again nothing.

"I'm starting to wonder whether the wishes only work on mundane things, a lot like spells except without a wand and you don't need to learn complicated hand movements," Oliver said, "But it looks as though they don't work on people. So, in theory, it wouldn't work against the Nocturnimagus."

"I see. But we still need to work out who the Nocturnimagus is, don't we?"

"I haven't thought about that," Oliver admitted, "With everything going on I haven't really been able to think about who it could be. It's not as though we have any suspects, is it?"

"There's Hedgeforth," Harry suggested, "but he was close with Snortson. The same goes for Swampstead."

"Where were they when Snortson was murdered?" Oliver asked suddenly, "I didn't see them round while the teachers were taking the students up to their dormitories."

"I can't remember," Harry said, "Wait, you're not suggesting that they're suspects, are you? But they seem so-"

"Unlikely, yeah," said Oliver, "Just like Professor Quirrell did."

"So we should go and look for them down in Hogsmeade?"

"I don't know, Harry," Oliver replied warningly, "McGonagall told us not to go looking for the Nocturnimagus during the day."

"But we're not looking for the Nocturnimagus exactly, are we?" Harry said convincingly, "We're looking for the person who _becomes_ the Nocturnimagus. I doubt they'd be able to do anything to us; the Nocturnimagus can only use its powers in the dream world right now."

"Yet it managed to use its powers in the real world today," Oliver said.

"Only because it had managed to use some of Dumbledore's dormant power of love," Harry countered, "If it hadn't have possessed him it wouldn't have been able to use them."

"That's true, I suppose," Oliver agreed, "Alright, tomorrow we'll find out where exactly Hedgeforth and Swampstead are living in Hogsmeade and we'll talk to them."

"I think I heard McGonagall say that Dumbledore paid for them to have a few months' lodgings at The Three Broomsticks. We'll go there and see if they can tell us anything."

"Right," said Oliver.

The light outside was growing darker and the stars were now poking through a thin layer of cloud, their bright sparkling partly obscured by the wispy night sky. The moonlight beamed down upon the tops of the castle, casting dark shadows across the lawns as it illuminated the battlements near the Astronomy Tower. Breathtaking.

"It's a beautiful night outside…" Harry said coyly with a smirk.

"It is, isn't it?" Oliver sighed and walked over to the window, still naked, "It really is…"

"That arse is beautiful," Harry commented as he watched Oliver's firm butt wiggle as he walked.

"That _cock_ is beautiful," Oliver replied as Harry walked next to him, "I can't get enough of it."

Oliver turned to face Harry, their eyes blending into a dazzling hue of emerald and hazel, one half of their faces illuminated by the dim light of the crackling fire and the other half glowing in the radiance of the moon.

"You're so gorgeous, Snitchy," Oliver cupped a hand on Harry's cheek, "You really are. I love those beautiful green eyes. I feel so connected to you and I never want to let go."

Harry brought his own hand up and stroked it down Oliver's cheek, all the while gazing deeply into Oliver's rift-like eyes.

"Ollie, do you realise just how amazing you are?" Harry said breathlessly and brushed his lips over Oliver's. It was so gentle and tender, neither of them wanted it to end as they opened their mouths to allow each other greater freedom to explore. Their tongues flicked together and intertwined, opting to caress each other instead of battling for control.

Their cocks began to grow hard, the tips brushing against each other as they continued to kiss and became lost in each other. Once again Harry could feel himself becoming light-headed as Oliver caused his senses to jumble together, only this time he was aware of what was happening and he seemed to be exerting some form of control over it. His feet left the soft carpet, his body rising up to the ceiling and his lips coming loose from Oliver's, who moaned as the kiss was broken.

"This feels incredible!" Harry exclaimed, "It's even better than- _you're flying, too!_"

Indeed Oliver _was_ flying. He was rising towards the ceiling. His head hit the plaster with a dull thud and cried out "Ow!" before falling back to the floor with a crash and sending the coffee table, along with the box Bertie Bott's Beans, flying across the room.

"Ollie, are you alright?" Harry worried as he brought himself down onto the carpet, waving his hand in the air and causing the myriad of beans to scoop themselves up and go back into the box. The coffee table turned upright and placed itself in front of the couch once again.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Oliver assured him, "Just a little bit of a bump, that's all. Let me try that again."

He lifted up off the carpet once more and levitated in the air for several seconds before clattering down to the floor yet again. Harry pushed the coffee table back as Oliver crashed to the carpet. He brought himself up off the floor once again and levitated above Oliver, who picked himself up and stood, looking at him in confusion.

"How are you doing that?" Oliver asked, frustrated.

"I just think about what direction I want to move," Harry said, "If I want to move to the right," Harry drifted about three feet to the right, "I move right. If I want to move to the left," he drifted a few feet to the left, "I move left. Simple. Just think about which way you want to move and you'll move."

I want to move up, Oliver thought to himself. He got the shock of his life when he found that he was floating weightlessly in the air, the tips of toes dangling just above the carpet.

"How do I stop myself from falling?"

"You just have to want to stay in the air," Harry said plainly, "It really is that easy."

Oliver suddenly found that he was able to move around freely in the air. He was having a good time getting used to the feeling of being able to fly without using a broom. But then his mind flashed with an idea that was surely crazy, and there was no way that Harry would agree to it… was there?

"Harry, I have an idea," he smirked and pulled Harry into the air by his arm, "How about we have a little race?"

Before Harry had time to reply, Oliver had yanked him out through the window and into the night, still fully naked. The air was freezing and instantly began to attack their bare bodies.

"Ollie, it's freezing!" Harry shouted.

"Quiet down a little, we don't want to wake the other students," Oliver said, "Then there's only one way for us to warm up, isn't there?" he added with a wink.

"I have my fire powers…" Harry mumbled.

"Ah, but where's the fun in that, Snitchy?" Oliver taunted, "Come on. Let's see who can fly the fastest. I'll race you to the Quidditch pitch."

"And what do I get if I win?" Harry grinned.

"This," Oliver winked, sliding his hands seductively down his muscular frame, "And if I win-"

"If you win you get all of this," Harry stroked his taut torso, "But with an added bonus…"

"Like what?" Oliver said curiously and drifted over to Harry.

"You can fuck me as hard as you like," Harry whispered in his ear.

"Little Snitch, I love you too much to 'fuck' you. I always want it to be making love. But I'll accept all of you without any bonuses," Oliver curled his tongue around Harry's earlobe and flicked it, making Harry shudder as the surprisingly-sensitive area sent miniscule ripples of pleasure trickling through his system, "You liked that, didn't you?"

"You have no idea…" Harry pressed his lips against Oliver's in an uplifting embrace, but moaned when Oliver pulled away.

"Ah-ah-ah!" Oliver teased, "You have to beat me before we get to any sort of loving!"

And he soared off around the other side of the Astronomy Tower, weaving and ducking under the gargoyles that dotted the edges of the steeple.

"Come on, Harry, I won't wait all night!" he laughed.

Harry gave chase and zoomed in Oliver's direction. For someone who had struggled to get a grasp on the basics of broomless flight Oliver was surprisingly nimble and fast in the air. Just like in bed, Harry chuckled to himself, I might lose on purpose so that he can make love to me all night.

They were flying, butt-naked, over the Herbology greenhouses, the moonlight dancing off of the glass and dazzling the two boys as they whizzed past overhead. Even though it was nearing the end of November the air didn't seem as cold as it should have, and their breath misted in front of them as they soared through the night. Harry and Oliver could feel the bitter cold on their skin but it didn't bother them in the slightest; their hearts beating rapidly against the entrapment of their chests, along with the rush of adrenaline coursing through their veins, was enough to warm them to full capacity. Harry and Oliver were neck-and-neck as they flew around another tower and headed down towards the Quidditch pitch. They were thirty feet away from it, its stands towering high above the ground, silhouetted against the deep blackness of the night sky.

"Almost there, Snitchy!" Oliver nudged Harry in the side and sent him off course slightly.

"No fair!" Harry laughed and pushed Oliver further off course than he had been, sending him flying towards the Forbidden Forest.

Twenty feet. Oliver was heading back on course, his eyes focussed solely on the Quidditch pitch and eager to claw back the distance Harry had made between them. The house colours on the stands were now growing clearer as the two boys zoomed towards it.

Ten feet. Oliver surged forward and charged directly into Harry.

"Umph!" Harry grunted.

They hurtled into the Quidditch pitch, laughing and plummeting through the air and crashing down onto the wet grass, which sent torrents of water splashing up to meet their naked bodies. They lay there together on the pitch for several minutes, catching their breath.

"Who won?" Harry asked breathlessly.

"Both of us," said Oliver, "I did that on purpose so that we'd both be winners; there aren't going to be losers in this relationship."

He crawled over to Harry and claimed his lips in passionate and gentle kiss, using one of his hands to cup the side of the younger boy's face and using the other to sensually stroke the outer rings of his nipples. Harry hissed into Oliver's mouth and brought a hand up to hold the back of the older boy's head. Nothing could have seemed more magical; it was going to happen here on the Quidditch pitch beneath the twinkling of the stars in the effervescent glow of the moonlight. But Oliver's kissing stopped when he suddenly took flight once again.

"You didn't honestly think I just wanted to race you, did you?" Oliver laughed, "I want to try something… new."

"Oh yeah? Like what?" Harry asked flirtatiously and rose up into the air, "Air sex, maybe?"

"How about we just call it 'airborne love'? Because that's what it is; love."

Without another word Harry and Oliver gently pushed their lips together, instantly allowing their tongues greater movement and freedom to explore wherever they wanted. But they were not waging war against each other, they were massaging each other's tongue and it wasn't long before they were both completely lost in the moment. They groaned as they brought their hands up to cup each other's cheeks.

"O-Ollie, baby…" Harry whispered, "I love you…"

"I love you, too, Little Snitch," Oliver whispered back and pressed their lips together once more. It was completely consuming and nothing in the world could have stopped them from making love beneath the guardian-like moon. Higher and higher they rose as their minds became clouded with passion, eventually ascending to a height greater than that of the towering goal hoops and the house flags. The lines on the pitch below were nothing more than pencil lines.

Oliver broke the kiss and nuzzled into Harry's neck, gently sucking and flicking at the sensitive skin, short gasps escaping from the younger boy.

"I want you to come for me, baby. I'm going to give you everything," Oliver said huskily.

Harry opened his mouth as if to argue but was cut across by Oliver.

"No buts," said Oliver, "Being able to make love to you is a victory in itself."

Oliver pulled Harry's body tightly to his with such passion and hunger as he had never felt before. Their semi-hard cocks connected, and small beads of precum leaked out from the tips and mixed together. Making sure that they were level in the air, Oliver grasped the bases of their shafts and slowly started to stroke up and down. Harry buried his head into Oliver's tight chest and groaned loudly as small shards of pleasure rippled through his body.

"Oh wow, Ollie…" he gasped, "so good…"

"Mmm…" Oliver moaned as he quickened his pace, "Y-Yeah…"

"Ollie… fuck! Stop! I'm going to come if you…"

But just as Harry was about to orgasm, Oliver pulled his hand away from their throbbing lengths. A thin stream of clear fluid trickled from the end of Harry's hard cock, past his shaft, over his scrotum and down to the grass hundreds of feet below, yet Harry had not yet achieved that state of pure bliss he enjoyed frequently with Oliver, and it was starting to drive him crazy that he had been denied a sense of total satisfaction, but the hungry glint in Oliver's dazzling brown eyes told him that there would be much more intense pleasure to come.

"See if you can lay down," Oliver said, "I have an idea."

Harry thought of just how much he would have loved to be laying down with Oliver just then, but he could not deny that the evening so far had been highly interesting, and the knowledge that whatever Oliver was about to do would please him greatly only excited him further. As the thoughts drifted through his mind, Harry laid flat in the air, his arms loose and dangling at his sides, and gazed up into the clear night sky, the stars twinkling happily down upon them like proud parents. His heart began to race and he gasped as he felt Oliver's lips press flatly against his erect nipple, the older boy's tongue caressing it with a gentleness that only he could give. Wonderful couldn't even begin to describe the sensations Harry was feeling as Oliver stroked his body while continuing to flick at each of his nipples in turn. Eventually, Oliver pulled away from Harry's chest and started to curl his tongue down the younger boy's muscled abs like a snake, gently caressing the ridges and grooves as he trailed a path down towards his eventual prize. Oliver glanced up at Harry, who had taken to holding Oliver's brown locks as he allowed the older boy to stimulate him, and noticed that there were tears flowing down his boyfriend's face.

"Oh, Harry," he worried and brought his face to meet Harry's, "What's the matter, baby?"

"I just can't hold it in anymore, Ollie," said Harry, smiling through his tears, "I'm so happy to be with someone as caring and loving as you. I love you so much that it hurts. Promise you'll never leave me?"

Oliver didn't even need to think about what his answer would be.

"Promise," he smiled and took Harry's hand in his own, "because I'd die for you, Snitchy. Now what would you say to a nice bit of love-making?"

"Take me to Mars, I want to see Rumbleroar…" Harry smiled.

Oliver gave a delicious chuckle and manoeuvred himself into a comfortable position between Harry's legs, his throbbing cock snuggled in between the cheeks of Harry's arse.

"Go for it…"

"I've left my wand in the living room…" Oliver realised, "We don't have any lube."

"You can fly without a broom and yet you think that you can't do freehand magic now?" Harry asked incredulously.

"You're right!" said Oliver, "_Lubrico!_"

Sure enough, Oliver had gained freehand abilities. He spread some of the lube he'd conjured onto Harry's puckered hole and applied the rest to himself, stroking his length to make sure that he was fully lubricated. Harry opened his legs wide, still floating in the air, and allowed Oliver greater access. The older boy gave a short, sharp push and slid, quickly and pleasurably, inside the younger boy, who reacted with a great yelp of excitement as Oliver slammed against his prostate.

"FUCK!" Harry bellowed.

"I love you, Snitchy," Oliver whispered and bent down to level his face with Harry's, claiming the younger boy's lips in an enchanting, unbreakable kiss.

Their lips locked together, Oliver began to thrust in an agonisingly slow rhythm inside Harry, who hissed and groaned as new waves of pleasure began their journeys around his system.

"Ollie…" Harry cried out, "F-Faster…"

"Not tonight, baby," Oliver grunted and screwed his face as the sensations continued to course through his body, "We're going to take it nice - UMPH - and - UMPH - slow."

Not wanting to lay down any longer, Harry wrapped both of his legs around Oliver's waist as the older boy continued to press, gently but consistently, against his prostate. He draped his arms around Oliver's firm neck and held on tightly as he brought himself and the older boy to an upright position, all the while being thrust into by Oliver, who had cupped his hands on Harry's arse cheeks for support. Harry had been trying hard not to shout out Oliver's name for fear of waking up the students and staff in the castle but he could no longer contain himself. He moaned and wailed as Oliver continued to make love to him in a standing position, floating high in the air as the moonlight beamed down upon them, the stars twinkling brightly against the murkiness of the night sky. Harry couldn't tell what time it was but he did not care, all that mattered was that Oliver was making love to him. It was gentle and more fulfilling than Harry had ever experienced. He never thought he'd prefer slow sex to speedy but now his mind had changed completely; from now on he wanted sex with Oliver to be slow and full of love and compassion.

Harry gave a final low, shuddering growl and arched his back, coming hard. Ribbons of seedy fluid exploded out of his throbbing cock, his arse constricting tightly around Oliver's shaft. Oliver roared as the insides of Harry's tight arse hugged his throbbing cock and sent a huge wave of pleasure thundering through his body. He buried his face into Harry's neck and started to mumble sweet nothings into the younger boy's ear as his body finally surrendered, ropes of cum erupting out of his slit and into Harry's used hole, losing control of his mind as the sensations became too much to bear.

In their moment of blank-mindedness Harry and Oliver failed to focus on flying; within seconds they were plummeting out of the sky and heading straight for the grass of the Quidditch pitch below, which suddenly seemed a lot uglier now that they were headed for a terrible fate if they didn't do something to stop it.

"I've got it covered!" Harry shouted as the air whistled past them, the castle a mere blur of colour as they hurtled out of the sky. With a loud crack and a blinding flash of golden light, Harry and Oliver vanished.

They landed in a heap, with a huge crash, on Oliver's Gryffindor-emblazoned bed sheets, still naked, covered in cum, and with Oliver still inside Harry, although both boys' penises had now grown limp in the aftermath of their intense orgasm. They were panting rapidly, their chests rising and sinking with each deep breath they took.

"That was a close one, eh?" Oliver laughed.

"Yeah, it was!" Harry chuckled, "It's good thing I remembered how to Apparate, isn't it?"

"Yeah…" said Oliver, "About that. How did you manage to do it just now? You shouldn't have been able to-"

"But I managed it on your first day of coaching," Harry reminded him, "And I worked out why I was able to do it."

"And why was that?" asked Oliver.

"Love," said Harry, "As a love-bearer I'm able to break certain magical limitations. Apparating that day was just one of them."

"When did you manage to work this out?" said Oliver.

"Over the last month or so I've been Apparating to my lessons," Harry explained, "But nobody saw me because I'd been going into the boys' toilets before I did it. I stumbled across it one day when I nearly fell from the top of the Grand Staircase, that's why I started practicing."

"That explains how you were able to Apparate easily just now," Oliver said and turned over to face Harry, who had apparently gotten the same idea because he was now gazing intently into Oliver's sparkling brown eyes.

"I love you…" they said in unison and brushed their lips together in a tender, goodnight kiss. Once they retreated from each other Harry turned his back towards Oliver, as if automatically, and allowed the older boy to snuggle up behind him and wrap his arms around Harry's firm, muscular chest. Just as Harry was about to doze off into a peaceful sleep Oliver placed his lips a mere inch away from Harry's ear and muttered two words. Two magical words that made Harry's mind spin and almost caused him to explode with happiness:

"Marry me…"


	25. Christmas Shopping

**Chapter Twenty Five – Christmas Shopping**

"HE ASKED YOU _WHAT_?!" Hermione squealed excitedly at breakfast the next day. Ron, who had suddenly came down with a bad case of the flu, was up in the hospital wing recuperating. It seemed as though the whole school had become sick; in the twenty minutes between getting out of bed at Oliver's living quarters and heading down to breakfast Harry had heard stories of how at least fifteen students had suddenly been struck down with the virus all at once when nobody they knew was infected as far as they could recall. Harry, Hermione and Oliver, of course, knew that the real reason for the mass illness was due to the students' period of time in the icy waters of the Black Lake, but it wouldn't surprise them if Ron hadn't managed to work that out. The teachers had been worst affected and Madame Pomfrey had used almost her entire supply of Pepper Up Potion to bring them back to full health; there were now students who would have to go without magical intervention in order to overcome their illnesses, with Ron being one of the unlucky few that would need to spend time up in the hospital wing where Madame Pomfrey could give them Muggle remedies to help soothe some of their symptoms.

"Yeah, Oliver asked me to marry him," Harry smiled widely.

"Well, what did you say?" Hermione urged him.

"What do you think, Hermione? I'm crazy about him," said Harry, still grinning like a Cheshire cat, "I'm not exactly going to say 'no' to him."

"But you've only been going out for two months," Hermione said concernedly, "Are you sure that this is what you want?"

"Hermione, I appreciate your concern, I really do, but I've made up my mind. I'm marrying the man I love," Harry said.

"Well, if it's really what you want… Harry, I'm so happy for you!" Hermione squealed once again and pulled him into a tight hug, "Ron'll be expecting to be best man, you know? And I want to be your Groom's Maid of Honour! Oh, and Ginny will want to be groomsmaid, so will Lavender and Parvati, maybe Padma, Dean and Seamus will want to be groomsmen, but I'm not sure about Neville, I'll have to ask him…"

"Steady on there, Hermione!" Harry laughed, "Me and Oliver haven't worked out a wedding date yet, what with all this," he lowered his voice significantly, "Nocturnimagus business."

"How was your night last night?" Hermione asked as she scooped scrambled eggs onto her and Harry's plates, "Did the Nocturnimagus try and attack you in your dreams?"

"No," Harry said flatly, "There was no sign of the Nocturnimagus at all, actually. Oliver seemed fine when we woke up this morning so I think he had regular dreams, too. If you ask me, I think the Nocturnimagus was weakened after the fight yesterday, so naturally it wasn't going to try and attack us again. I reckon it's waiting until it gets more power off Dumbledore, then it can try and attack us again."

"Do you have any ideas as to who the Nocturnimagus might be? I know we haven't even thought about who could be behind the attacks yet," said Hermione.

"Me and Oliver have an idea," said Harry, "But we're not entirely sure. It's a long shot but it's been known to happen before. And the pieces seem to fit together."

"Well?" Hermione said impatiently, "Who do you think it is?"

"We have two suspects," Harry said quietly so that nobody else would hear him, "Swampstead and Hedgeforth."

"The other two coaches?" Hermione said, "What makes you suspect them?"

"They didn't seem to be around when Snortson was first attacked," Harry began, "and then they were absent again when she was murdered. They didn't show up yesterday when me and Oliver were fighting off the Nocturnimagus, either."

"They could have been anywhere," said Hermione, "Just because they weren't there doesn't mean that they had something to do with it."

"In this case, Hermione, it points to _exactly_ that," Harry started, "The Nocturnimagus can only attack while it's asleep. Swampstead and Hedgeforth weren't around when the attacks on Snortson happened; sometimes they appeared _after_ the attacks. And yesterday they didn't show up at all."

"Harry, you know that they don't have jobs here anymore," Hermione said, "That should be enough to excuse them from yesterday."

"Why should it? They could still have been able to attack," Harry countered, "Don't forget, all they need to do is sleep and then they'll be able to attack without anybody realising who they are. Not to mention that they would have been able to possess Dumbledore."

"I thought that Dumbledore was possessed constantly now?" Hermione assumed a confused expression.

Harry sat there for a while, munching on a piece of toast.

"Two of them," he said suddenly after five minutes of thoughtful silence.

"What?"

"Two of them," Harry repeatedly quickly, "Hermione, there's two of them. That explains how they've been able to break Dumbledore so fast, that's how they've been able to make each other look innocent in case someone became suspicious. _That's why they were hardly ever seen together!_"

"How can you know for sure that Hedgeforth and Swampstead are the Nocturnimagi?" Hermione asked pleadingly, "Harry, don't go around making false accusations!"

"The night of our double date at WizenYouth. Hedgeforth and Swampstead distinctly wanted to meet me," Harry said.

"That could be said for almost everyone you've ever met," Hermione said flatly.

"But they seemed rather interested in the fact that I'm in a relationship with Oliver, and if I remember rightly Hedgeforth couldn't take his eyes off my scar, even more than I'm used to."

"Harry…" Hermione said, "You're right… You've got to find Oliver and tell him!"

"He's at Diagon Alley right now," Harry said, "He said he needed to do some Christmas shopping."

"I completely forgot!" Hermione realised, "I need to go and do my Christmas shopping, too!"

"I'll come with you after Potions today," said Harry as he spooned a mouthful of scrambled egg into his mouth, "I could do with some new robes and stuff. I might find Oliver while we're there anyway."

"I can congratulate you both properly, too," Hermione smiled, "A nice dinner at a restaurant, I think."

"You don't have to, Hermione," Harry waved a hand in the air as if to dismiss the idea, "Me and Oliver don't want to make a huge fiasco out of this. And all we want is just want a nice, plain ceremony where we can get married once all of this Nocturnimagus business has blown over."

"_Bonded_," Hermione corrected him, "When two members of the same sex get married in the wizarding world, it's called a 'Bonding'."

"It sounds an awful lot like the Muggle situation with marriage and civil partnerships," Harry said with an air of agitation. He loathed how the Muggle government could be so ignorant towards same-sex marriage. Still, at least some states in the USA acknowledged it.

"It's actually much better than that, Harry," Hermione gave him an assuring pat on the back, "A Bonding ceremony creates a link that's even stronger than a normal marriage. It's basically marriage, even the paperwork is the same, but there's an added bonus; the partners involved become linked at the soul. It doesn't just marry your bodies, it marries your whole existence. Of course, the link can be broken if the partners want to divorce."

"Me and Oliver are already linked, anyway," said Harry, "Vinculum Duo's done that for us."

"But I doubt that it runs as deep as a Bonding will. Really, Harry, I feel so happy for you. I've been able to tell that over the last couple of years something has been eating at you. I guess what you really needed was that special someone, and now you've finally found him."

"Thanks, Hermione," Harry smiled and hugged her.

"It's almost time for Transfiguration," Hermione said ten minutes later after they had finished their breakfasts, "I need to go and take some food up to Ron. The hospital food will be driving him mad. I'll tell him the good news."

Hermione picked up a platter of toast with bacon, eggs and sausages. With a final smile at Harry, she walked briskly out of the Great Hall and up to the hospital wing.

The day's lessons passed quicker than Harry had ever imagined was possible; thoughts of Oliver and their life together swam around his mind all the way through Transfiguration, double Divination and partway through Charms, when he had a brief lapse due to Professor Flitwick's insistence that he demonstrate his freehand abilities. Towards the end of the lesson Harry was starting to grow impatient.

"Professor, I know you're excited that I can do freehand magic but could you please just let me get on with the work without making a spectacle out of me?" he asked as the other students started packing up.

"Of course, I'm sorry," Professor Flitwick apologised.

He made his way out of the Charms classroom and down to the dungeons for Potions, which was fast becoming his favourite subject much to his own surprise, Hermione following closely behind and smiling wider than ever. Just as they turned to head into the dungeons she pulled Harry aside.

"Ron knows about you and Oliver getting engaged," she whispered excitedly, "I told him when I took his breakfast before Transfiguration. He said he's over the moon for you and that he better be best man. I told you!"

Harry grinned widely at her.

"You're unbelievable," he chuckled and headed into the dungeons.

The dungeon had retained its blinding mixture of colours but Harry, Ron and Hermione had quickly gotten used to it, although the first time they had set foot in this dungeon had led to a very dazzled trio as they left. A myriad of colours awaited them as they stepped into the room, with Professor Snape giving his now-regular yellow-toothed smile from the front of the class, a life-sized cauldron bubbling happily on the desk in front of the blackboard. A sweet scent of chocolate and roses filled the students' nostrils as they placed themselves at the tables.

"What do you reckon is in there?" Harry asked Hermione, "Amortentia?"

"It depends. Can you smell chocolate and roses?" Hermione said.

"Yeah," Harry replied.

"Then I doubt it's Amortentia," Hermione said flatly.

"Professor Snape's making us some rosewater-flavoured chocolate!" a Slytherin girl shouted happily as she gazed into the cauldron. Professor Snape wrote instructions on the board for the Potion that they were going to be making that day; Veritaserum.

"Yes, yes, settle down," Professor Snape said, smiling, "Now, if you could all open your books to page three hundred and ninety four, please?"

There was a ripple of rustling paper as the students opened their books and turn the page to three hundred and ninety four.

"We will get started on producing one of the strongest Truth Potions in the world," Snape continued, "I speak, of course, of Veritaserum. Often used in interrogations, it is considered highly useful in obtaining the truth from its drinker. However, it is not infallible and, as such, can be deceived by magic such as Occlumency as well as the use of an antidote. It is for this reason that the Ministry has imposed heavy restrictions of its use and although it is sometimes used during trials, the testimony given by the drinker is only circumstantially reliable. There have been many cases where the drinker, although telling what they thought was the truth, was actually mentally unstable and therefore unfit for interrogation, making their entire testimony useless."

Harry sat for the next five minutes listening eagerly to Professor Snape's explanation of Veritaserum and its many uses. He surprised himself at just how much he was beginning to like Snape as a teacher, almost as much as he liked Professor McGonagall.

"That's enough talking from me," Professor Snape said eventually, "Time for you all to brew a sample. Since the potion takes one lunar cycle to brew fully, you shall have your marks for this potion sent to you via owl on Christmas Eve."

With a scraping of chairs as they were pushed under their tables, the students set about making their potions. Harry, about to pair himself up with Hermione, was suddenly grasped on the arm.

"Excuse me, but what are you doing?" he said as he whirled around.

Stood in front of him was a rather-ugly short boy with a crooked nose and Spellotaped glasses. He wore Slytherin robes.

"I've seen you around a lot and I was wondering if you'd want to go out with me some time," he asked Harry, who opened his mouth in complete shock and gave Hermione an incredulous look.

"I haven't got a clue who you think you are," Harry said, mildly angry, "But I'm taken. You should know that by now, I'm with my fiancé every day."

"Fiancé?" a Slytherin girl repeated from the back of the class, "Did he just say 'fiancé'?"

"Did Oliver propose to you, Harry?" a nearby Hufflepuff asked excitedly.

"How did he do it?"

"Were you in the middle of sex?"

"Is he good in bed?"

"THAT WILL BE QUITE ENOUGH!" Professor Snape bellowed, alarming every student in the class, "What Harry does in his own time is the business of he and Mr Wood's, and _only_ he and Mr Wood! Thirty points will be taken from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin for such inappropriate questions!"

"Did you say 'yes'?" Neville Longbottom asked quietly from the front of the class once Professor Snape had returned to his desk and the other students had resumed working.

Harry was aware that nearly every eye in the room was fixed on him. He could feel their penetrating stares jabbing at his back and waiting eagerly for him to give his answer.

"Of course he did, Neville," came a voice that Harry was all-too-pleased to hear. He was saved, finally able to get away from the increasingly-awkward situation at hand; Harry might have been able to disclose the fact that he and Oliver were getting married but he wasn't going to tell them personal details.

"Ollie!" Harry grinned and ran to his fiancé.

"Ollie?" several of the girls sniggered. They stopped when Hermione threw a filthy stare back in their direction.

"Hi there, Little Snitch," Oliver smiled and pecked Harry on the cheek, "I take it people know that we're engaged now?"

The whole dungeon burst into rapturous applause at the announcement, the girls in the room cooing, the boys cheering and whistling.

"_Silencio!_" Snape shouted and the students grew suddenly quiet, although they continued to make attempts at causing a raucous.

"Hello, Mr Wood," Snape smiled, "How can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could take Harry out for a short while. Only for about fifteen minutes," Oliver said.

"Of course. Make sure that it is only for fifteen minutes; this is Harry's NEWT year and he needs to practice hard if he is to become an auror as he desires," said Snape.

"Thank you," Oliver nodded courteously, "Come on, Harry."

He took hold of Harry's hand and led them out of the dungeons, through the entrance hall, up the Grand Staircase and into a deserted classroom on the fourth floor. Once they stepped over the threshold Oliver closed the door with a dull click.

"I think we ought to make this official, don't you?" Oliver asked with a beautiful smile that drove Harry crazy.

"What do you mean?" Harry assumed a look of confusion.

"Well I didn't want to make a big deal of it in front of the students. Merlin knows you would have been embarrassed if I'd have done it down there," Oliver said.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small blue velvet box.

"I want to show you that I didn't just ask off the top of my head. I've been waiting for a while to ask," he continued.

Oliver knelt down on one knee and slowly prised open the box. Harry gasped. Inside was a golden ring, two snitches engraved at either side, their wings fluttering lightly on the gold in a non-existent breeze. An inscription scrolled along the inside of the ring like a marquee but Harry couldn't quite make out what it said.

"Harry James Potter," Oliver was grinning widely at Harry, who had blushed a deep shade of fuchsia, "Will you make me the happiest man on the planet and take my hand in marriage?"

Harry's eyes were filling with tears. He was overjoyed when Oliver proposed to him the night before but seeing his beautiful face, beaming and radiating with happiness before him, made his emotions finally burst their banks.

"Yes, Oliver Wood, I will!" he exclaimed through tears of overwhelming happiness.

Oliver stood up and pulled Harry into a tight embrace. They stood there for several minutes, crying tears of joy and sobbing into each other's shoulder.

"I love you so much," they muttered over and over again to each other.

This is it, Harry thought to himself, my life with Oliver starts here.

Oliver looked up at the clock that was on the wall above the blackboard; they still had five minutes left of the fifteen that Professor Snape had given them.

"We still have five minutes," Oliver whispered seductively in Harry's ear, "What do you say?"

"I say we have time for a little bit of fun," Harry whispered back.

Oliver gently pressed his lips on Harry's, his face streaked with tears. He placed his hands on Harry's hips and pulled him forwards so that their crotches connected, allowing them to slowly grind their growing erections together through the fabric of their trousers. They continued to kiss, this time opting for the use of only lips to show each other their love and passion. As their cocks grew harder, Harry and Oliver felt the need for release and they made quick work of their trousers and pants as they sought that height of bliss they enjoyed so frequently.

"I love you," they whispered to each other as Oliver grasped the bases of their connected cocks and began stroking up and down in an agonisingly-slow motion, sweeping his hand up their shafts and taking a moment to massage their tips, before bringing his hand back down and repeating it over and over again. They resumed kissing and moaned into each other's mouth as the pleasure intensified, making them quiver slightly as a chilly winter draught bit at their skin. Precum leaked out of their swollen cocks and mixed together at the tips like white frosting.

"Oh, baby…" Oliver moaned into Harry's ear, "I'm getting so close…"

"I love you…" Harry groaned, "I-I'm… yeah, I'm a-almost-"

"Oooooooh! What have we here?!" a high-pitched cackling voice echoed around the room, "Potty Wee Potter and Woody Wee Wood enjoying some private time?"

"Piss off, Peeves, we're busy!" Oliver growled and withdrew his hand from his and Harry's cocks, which wobbled at the swift relinquishment, "Hide your body," he added quietly to Harry and pulled him tighter towards him so as to cover themselves up.

"Language like that's not s'posed to be used by staff," Peeves taunted and blew a raspberry.

"Just _GO_!" Harry shouted, "before I call the Bloody Baron!"

Peeves made an obscene gesture with his hands and stuck his tongue out before floating slowly through the blackboard, cursing under his breath. Once he was out of the room Harry and Oliver started laughing.

"Nice thinking about the Bloody Baron," said Oliver, "Come on, we'd best get dressed. You need to go back to Potions."

"Ohhh," Harry whined, "But we were just getting to the good part!"

"I'm sorry, Snitchy, but you need your education. I promise I'll make it up to you tonight," Oliver smiled, "And don't forget this," he slid the ring on Harry's finger. The snitches on the gold started to flutter their wings quickly as if caught in a sudden breeze, "Those snitches flutter their wings whenever you're feeling happy and they stop moving altogether when you're angry or upset. I have one," he pulled out an identical ring, "My snitches do exactly what yours do so and if ever you're upset while I'm away, I'll be able to come and cheer you up because my snitches would tell me there was something wrong."

"Ollie… it's beautiful…" Harry said breathlessly and kissed Oliver.

"I'm glad you like it," Oliver said as he pulled his pants and trousers on, "Now, I've got to go and teach some first years how to fly. I've still got a little bit of Christmas shopping to do so I'll be going to Diagon Alley again when I'm finished. Meet me in the courtyard after you've had Potions, or I'll meet you outside the dungeon if I finish early."

Oliver pecked Harry on the cheek and walked out of the deserted classroom, leaving Harry to get dressed on his own and head back down to Potions. When Harry arrived at the dungeon he was met with a tsunami of cheering. His cheeks flushed a deep shade of magenta as he walked over to his desk, where Hermione had busied herself with not just her own cauldron, but Harry's as well. Her hair had bushed outwards even more so than normal; she looked like she had a brown sheep on her head. Harry looked into his cauldron at the slightly-misty liquid that was bubbling happily away.

"You've just got the dried Billywig stings and asphodel to add," she said as she poured a measurement of powdered root of asphodel into her cauldron. The mixture sizzled and frothed, before settling back down and turning into a clear liquid, "Professor Snape, I've finished my potion!"

"Well done, Miss Granger," Snape said from Neville's desk where he was helping the clueless boy with his Veritaserum, "Ten points to Gryffindor. Now, if you could scoop some into a phial and take it to my desk at the front of the class, I'll take it in to let it brew for a month."

Hermione grabbed a phial from one of the storage cupboards behind them and started to scoop a sample from her cauldron, then took the glass container to front of the class, while Harry added his remaining ingredients, watched the potion sizzle and froth, and went to grab a phial of his own. Just as he was about to scoop a sample into his own phial, Harry took the ring off his finger so as to avoid damage by the potion. He placed it on the table beneath his Potions textbook so that nobody could see it and took the phial to Snape's desk, where the teacher gave him ten house points and put the container of clear liquid into a holder in one of the cupboards next to the blackboard. When Harry returned to his seat, Hermione was sat with her mouth gaping wide, the tiny ring held in between her fingers.

"Harry…" she said, "This ring is beautiful! And the scrolling inscription, it's so sweet! Is this why Oliver took you out earlier?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "He took me to an empty classroom and he said that he wanted to show me he's been meaning to propose for a while instead of it being a spur-of-the-moment thing that he thought of last night, so he got down on one knee and he proposed again."

"You were gone an awful long time," Hermione said, "Professor Snape was just about to send me to fetch you when we heard Peeves floating in the corridor outside laughing about catching something unspeakable on the fourth flo- you two were getting busy, weren't you?" she said when she saw Harry fighting back fits of laughter, "Honestly, you two need to be more careful if you're going to do that sort of thing in the castle. Anyone could walk in on you. Have you read the inscription? It's one of the sweetest things I've seen in my life."

She handed Harry the ring, being careful to make sure that nobody in the classroom saw the light glitter off the snitches. Harry took the ring in his hands and read the inscription. If he hadn't already done enough crying that day the scrolling marquee certainly would have made sure that he had.

_My life had always been empty  
Until the day that I met you.  
We connected in the sunlight  
When you thought Quidditch new.  
I watched you grow and mature  
With your friends stood by your side.  
But then I had to leave you  
And my soul almost died.  
But then I found you once again  
And it brought me out of that ditch.  
I love you all the world  
Harry, my Little Snitch._

"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked concernedly and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. She noticed that a stream of tears was pouring down his face and pulled him into a tight hug, "What's the matter?"

"I just love him so much," he continued to sob into her chest, "Hermione, I love him so much it hurts."

"Harry…" Hermione stroked his back soothingly, "It's alright. What I think you need is some private time alone with Oliver. Some _really _private time with him where nobody can interrupt you. And the best place for you to get it is on a honeymoon. Hang in there, Harry. I'm sure he feels the exact same way."

"What's wrong?" Neville asked whilst everyone finished their potions and took them up to Snape's desk.

"Harry's just a little bit overwhelmed because he's madly in love with Oliver," Hermione said as Harry continued to weep, "Oliver gave him an engagement ring," she added, pointing to the ring on Harry's finger.

"That ring looks beautiful," said Neville, "Congratulations, Harry!"

Neville took a phial of his potion up to Professor Snape's desk, packed his things and then left the dungeon with the other students when the bell rang to signal the end of that day's lessons. Harry was still sat at his table with Hermione holding him closely, still sobbing into her chest, when Professor Snape realise that something was wrong.

"Harry, what's the problem?" he asked worriedly.

"I'd r-rather not s-say, Professor, it's a r-really st-stupid thing," Harry sobbed.

"Would you like a Calming Solution?" said Snape.

"N-No thank you, s-sir," Harry stuttered.

Snape walked back to his desk and started to check each of the phials to make sure that they were the correct colour, occasionally swirling their contents.

"I'd b-better get going," Harry sniffed and looked at Hermione, "Oliver's g-going to be w-waiting for m-me."

"I'll come with you," said Hermione, "I need to do some Christmas shopping. I promised mum and dad I'd get them some sugar-free wizarding sweets."

She wrapped one arm around Harry's shoulders and led him out of the dungeon.

Oliver was stood waiting in the courtyard with a happy expression on his face, the sunlight glinting off the snitches on his engagement ring, which suddenly stopped fluttering their wings. He was quick to react and soon found himself dashing down several corridors and turning countless corners before bumping into Harry and Hermione in the entrance hall as they made their way up from the dungeons.

"Harry, what's wrong? My snitches stopped moving. Are you alright?" Oliver fretted.

"He just got a bit emotional," said Hermione, patting Harry on the back.

"Ollie…" Harry sobbed, "I love you so much it hurts."

"Oh, Snitchy, come here," Oliver sighed and pulled Harry into a comforting hug, "There's no need to cry."

"I just don't want to lose you," Harry cried louder into Oliver's chest.

"You won't lose me," Oliver kissed Harry's forehead, "We're getting Bonded, remember?"

"Can I make a suggestion?" Hermione asked.

"Sure."

"It seems to me that Harry needs time to show you just how much he really does love you, so I think it might be beneficial if you get Bonded rather soon," said Hermione, "That way, your honeymoon will come faster."

"Harry, look at me," said Oliver and he tipped Harry's head upwards so that the younger boy's sparkling, wet emerald eyes were transfixed on his own crystalline hazel ones, "I promise you that once this whole Nocturnimagus thing is done we'll get Bonded. This time next month we'll be Harry and Oliver Potter-Wood."

He placed his lips onto Harry's in a tender kiss.

"Now how about we go and get some Christmas shopping done?" Oliver chirped and wrapped an arm around Harry's waist as they walked through the entrance hall and out into the fresh air, "My grandmother wants a model of the Firebolt for Christmas. She's always had a thing for wizarding stuff. Hey, where's Ron?"

"Hospital wing," Hermione said flatly, "Flu."

"I guess he was just one of the unlucky ones that didn't get any Pepper Up Potion?" said Oliver.

Hermione nodded.

The sun was shining in a clear blue sky, with only a few light wisps of cloud dotted here and there. But despite the blazing sunshine there was still the unmistakable pinch of cold that never failed to alert you to winter's presence.

"Such a shame, I was going to tell him that there's a sale going on for the Firebolt at Quality Quidditch Supplies; down to ten galleons from sixty! Can you believe it?"

"Wow!" exclaimed Harry as he wiped his eyes dry, "I wonder…" he muttered to himself under his breath.

"So what do you plan on getting, Hermione? Anything nice for your parents?" said Oliver.

"Just some sugar-free wizarding sweets. Do they make sugar-free Bertie Bott's beans?" she asked curiously.

"Aren't Bertie Bott's sugar-free anyway?" Harry said.

"Yeah, I think they are," said Oliver, "Why not buy them a box each? It'll be funny watching them eat them on Christmas day. But I don't think that there are many sweets that are sugar-free, what with us being able to use magic if we get cavities or something. Can't you just _say_ that they're sugar-free? They won't know the difference."

"I suppose so…" Hermione said reluctantly as they walked into the village high street, "We should be able to Apparate to Diagon Alley from here," she added and, with a loud crack, she Disapparated, Harry and Oliver following closely behind.

They Apparated outside Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour and startled several fellow shoppers nearby. They cursed under their breath at them.

"Nice to see the Christmas spirit is alive here," Oliver said sarcastically.

The sunlight had carried over from Hogwarts and beamed down into the packed high street below, the ghostly-white building of Gringotts towering over the rest of the cramped shops and stalls.

"I have an idea," said Hermione, "When you go into a shop, if you're buying anything for one of us, make sure you cast a Disillusionment Charm on the gift so that we can't see what it is. You can both do that, can't you?" Harry and Oliver nodded, "Good. This is going to be fun!"

Harry and Oliver merely glanced at each other with large smirks covering their faces.

"We need to head into Gringotts first," said Oliver, "We can't buy anything without money."

"Didn't you go to Gringotts earlier when you were first here?" asked Harry.

"I did," said Oliver, "but the money I took out was just enough to get the inscription put on your ring, so I actually didn't really get much Christmas shopping done, aside from a few boxes of sweets for my great aunt and uncle."

"Oh. Let's get going then!" Harry smiled and strode off towards Gringotts bank, Hermione and Oliver walking briskly behind him.

The trip down to the vaults was anything but pleasant, although Harry did enjoy the ride in the carts as they traversed around the stalagmites and stalactites and plunged deeper into the earth, past the bursts of flames from dragons that were out of sight yet as dangerous as they would be if they were directly in front of you. By the time they stopped at Hermione's vault, Harry and Oliver were sat in the cart laughing hysterically while Hermione held her head over the side to throw up. The goblin that controlled the cart looked at them as they were pieces of dirt of his shoe and walked up to the vault, where he inserted Hermione's key into the lock and opened the giant iron door. Inside was a considerable amount of gold, glinting in the dim light of the torches held at either side of the door, although nowhere near the mountains of galleons, sickles and knuts that was stashed away in Harry's vault. Hermione clambered out of the cart, her legs wobbling uncontrollably as though she had been hit with the Tarantallegra curse, and stumbled into her vault, where she pulled out a small drawstring bag and filled it with gold, before walking stably out of the vault and back into the cart. Before they knew it they were blasting off once again at full speed, twisting and turning around the lethally-low formations of rock and earth, and then suddenly stopped in front of vault number three hundred and seventy one.

"This is my stop," Oliver said and hopped out of the cart. He handed the goblin his key, who then unlocked the cast iron door. There was generous amount of gold inside Oliver's vault, a lot more than Hermione's, but still significantly less than Harry's, and it surprised Harry; a professional Quidditch player like Oliver should have had so much more gold, "I know what you're thinking," Oliver said as he scooped gold into his pockets and walked back out of the vault, "Why haven't I got more gold? Well, let me tell you this; professional Quidditch players only actually receive twenty percent of what they earn," he added bitterly, "the other eight percent goes on paying to keep your contract running with them."

"That's corruption, if ever I've heard it!" Hermione said, shocked.

"Tell me about it," said Oliver, "It was one of the reasons I left Puddlemere United."

One stop left; Harry's. With a great rush of air, the cart was soaring along the tracks, veering dangerously to the left and right, almost tipping its inhabitants off into the complete blackness below, where Harry was sure he would have met a very gruesome end, if there even was an end to it. Harry and Oliver laughed together as the cart threw them around inside, Hermione making sure to keep her hand clapped over mouth tightly. They came to an eventual stop in front of Harry's vault, number six hundred and eighty seven. Harry handed the goblin his key and waited anxiously as the door crept open, revealing the mountainous piles of galleons, sickles and knuts lying within. Before Hermione and Oliver could say anything Harry was scrambling around the room hauling as much gold into his pockets as he could in the fastest time possible; he didn't want to have to answer any questions, no matter how innocent or mundane they might be. Once he was happy with the amount of gold he had managed to stuff into his pockets Harry left the vault and jumped back into the cart, before they were rocketing upwards towards the bank floor above. They must have been at least a mile down; it took them ten minutes before they could see even the tiniest rays of sunlight beaming into the cavern. They finally got back to level footing and walked quickly out of the bank into the cold winter air.

The sun had retreated behind a layer of cloud so thick that the whole high street was plunged into near-darkness.

"It's gotten dark out here pretty quickly," Oliver commented.

"No wonder," said Harry as he looked down at his watch, "It's almost seven o'clock. It'll be getting really dark before long so we don't have much time; we'll be wanted back at the castle soon, too."

"Then we'd better get a move on," said Hermione, "If you need me I'll be in the sweet shop over there," she pointed to a rather cosy-looking shop that had a large round sign on the top in the shape of a Bertie Bott's Bean. It read:

_Candycane's Confectionery Craziness_

"I dare you to say that ten times fast," Harry whispered to Oliver, who laughed.

"Sounds like a real tongue twister, doesn't it?" he chuckled, "I'll be heading into Quality Quidditch Supplies to pick up a few bits and pieces. What about you, Harry?"

"Madame Malkin's," Harry replied, "I really do need some new robes. I think I might buy Mr and Mrs Weasley a new set of dress robes, too."

"I'll get Ron his robes," said Hermione, "He's clueless when it comes to finding clothes."

And with that they set off in their separate directions, Hermione heading into Candycane's Confectionery Craziness and Oliver walking to Quality Quidditch Supplies. Harry set off at a brisk pace towards Madame Malkin's Robes for all Occasions ignoring the looks passers-by gave him as they noticed the ring on his finger. He opened the door to the shop and walked inside, where he was greeted by a pleasant smell of rose perfume. Along one side of the shop were all manner of different robes and clothes, both wizarding and Muggle, in a variety of different colours and styles, for women and girls; some were blue robes with floral patterns, and others were red one-shoulder tops that you often saw Muggle models wearing. On the other side of the shop was a selection of men's and boys' clothing, also Muggle and wizarding. There were denim jeans and blue t-shirts with several different patterns available, as well as patterned robes of many different colours. The section that Harry was looking for was at the back of the shop.

A magnificent array of dress robes lined the wall. There were many different colours and sizes and Harry was having too much of a good time imagining Oliver dressed in one of these to even think about buying his own. But then a sharp cough rang from behind him and he turned round to see the portly Madame Malkin looking directly at him as though expecting him to say something.

"What is it, young man?" she asked politely, "What can I get you?"

"I'm looking for some dress robes for my friend's parents," Harry said, "My friend would have bought them himself but he's caught the flu."

"Dear, dear," Madame Malkin muttered sympathetically, "You came to the right place, Mr Potter. Oh, you thought I didn't recognise you?" she added when she saw that Harry had opened his mouth in surprise, "You ought to know by now that everybody knows who you are," she scuttled over to one side of the room and started rifling through a set of black dress robes with a white collar and cuffs, "My boy, you brought down the Dark Lord once and for all, you're the saviour of the wizarding world!" she handed Harry the dress robes, "How do these look? Don't worry, they're self-adjusting at no extra charge so if they're too big or too small they'll resize themselves to fit your friend's father."

"Great, thanks," Harry smiled.

"Hm, and now to find some dress robes for your friend's mother," she said and scurried over to a long line of pretty dresses in a wide variety of colours and shapes. Some had straps on only one side of the dress whilst some had no straps at all, and Harry was slightly disgusted at the length of some of them; while most of them trailed down to where you'd expect them to be, wearer's ankles, some of them were so high up that it would be almost impossible for the wearer to cover their underwear.

"Here you are," Madame Malkin pulled out a pretty red and gold strapless dress with subtle frills going down the fabric, "How does this look? This is self-adjusting, too, so no need to worry about size."

"They're both really great," Harry thanked, "How much will that be?" he asked.

"Six galleons, eight sickles and seven knuts, please," she said. Harry handed her the correct amount, "Thank you very much," Madame Malkin took the robes into another room and came back out five minutes later with them wrapped in crisp, clear plastic, "Come back any time you like."

Harry nodded courteously at her and walked out of the shop, where he bumped into Oliver.

"Hi, Snitchy," Oliver smiled and pecked him on the cheek, causing several passers-by to stop and point at them, "So what did you get?"

"They really _are_ together," the people whispered excitedly to each other. A few people gasped, "The rings! Look at the rings!"

"I just got some dress robes for Mr and Mrs Weasley," said Harry, trying to ignore the mutterings and the buzz of murmuring that was now filling the suddenly-cramped high street, "We'll need to come back in the next couple of days to order our dress robes for the Bonding."

"Bonding!" a nearby girl squealed, "Daddy, are Harry Potter and Oliver Wood getting Bonded?"

"Oh, shit," Oliver muttered, "I didn't want this publicising just yet. Run!"

Harry and Oliver dashed down the high street jostling everyone that was within a foot of them as their legs seemed to work independently of their bodies as they bulleted past the Magical Menagerie, causing the owls outside in their cages to hoot angrily for disturbing them from their sleep. They whirled round a corner, out of sight, and ran full pelt down the adjoining path until they stopped, completely breathless, out the back of the Leaky Cauldron, where a group of elderly wizards stood mumbling about Quidditch, which made Oliver visibly uncomfortable. After standing there for several minutes, regaining their breath, they set off walking along the remainder of the path until they were stood at the side of Gringotts, the towering building casting a shadow over them as though attempting to conceal them from the shoppers in the high street that were now going into every shop possible looking for them.

"Look, it's Hermione!" Harry whispered to Oliver.

Standing in the middle of the street was Hermione, a bag full of sweets dangling from her arm. She appeared to be looking around for Harry and Oliver. Clearly she had just been about to walk up to them when they had ran from the crowd of onlookers because she was spinning around the spot shouting their names.

"Harry? Oliver? Where have you gone?" she called.

They waited until only Hermione was left in the street before they quickly hurried over to her. She squeaked in fright when they popped up behind her all of a sudden.

"Oh, you two!" she shouted angrily, "Did you have-"

"Shhhh!" Harry and Oliver pressed their fingers to their lips, "We don't want everyone knowing that we're engaged yet!"

"Nobody went into Madame Malkin's," Hermione whispered hurriedly, "Come on."

She led them back into the shop quickly. But there were two people in there, and one of them was the very last person that Harry wanted to see right now; Molly Weasley.

"Harry! Hello, dear, what a pleasant surprise!" she beamed and pulled him into a hug. Harry sure that she couldn't see or feel the ring on his finger, "Aren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts?" she added sternly.

"Me, Hermione and Oliver," he cleared his throat; the awkwardness was undeniable, "just came down to do a bit of Christmas shopping."

"You know Mr Potter?" Madame Malkin asked Mrs Weasley.

"Yes, of course I do," Mrs Weasley smiled, "He's my son's best friend. Ron sent me an owl a couple of days ago, Harry. So tell me, who's the lucky girl?"

"Erm…" Harry shifted uncomfortably where he stood, yet Mrs Weasley seemed to be completely oblivious to his awkward body language, "About that…"

"Oh, Harry, dear have you broken up with her?" Mrs Weasley dragged him into yet another tight hug, "Don't worry, I'm here if you need someone to-"

"No, it's not that," said Harry.

"He was in here not too long ago buying dress robes for his friend's parents," said Madame Malkin, "I take it that it's you and your husband that he was talking about?"

"Me and Arthur? I can't see why he'd be buying dress robes for us. If it's not that you've broken up with her," Oliver fidgeted with his jacket but Mrs Weasley still didn't seem to have noticed, "then what is it?"

"We're… we're engaged…" Harry muttered.

"What was that, dear?" Mrs Weasley asked, apparently having not been able to hear him.

"We're engaged," Harry said more clearly.

He regretted it.

"Harry, my boy!" Mrs Weasley squealed, "You have to bring her round for dinner to meet us one day! We need to gather everyone so that you can tell us who she is! When's the wedding?! Do you two know who she is?!" she looked at Hermione and Oliver.

"Oh yes, Mrs Weasley," said Hermione, "Ron, Oliver and I know exactly who it is, and so does Ginny."

"Come on then!" Mrs Weasley urged Harry, "Tell me who the lucky girl is!" she moved her penetrating eyes from Harry, to Hermione, to Oliver and then back again, "Well?"

Hermione coughed as if to distract Mrs Weasley and, taking advantage of Mrs Weasley's moment of distraction, Harry gave Oliver a pleading look.

"Help me," he mouthed and Oliver took his hand in his own. Madame Malkin seemed to have noticed but winked and nodded as though understanding that this was something that Harry should tell Mrs Weasley himself.

"Mrs Weasley?" Harry said with a newly-found confidence.

"Yes, dear?" she remained completely oblivious to Harry and Oliver holding each other's hand.

"Ron told me that you haven't read the Daily Prophet since the summer," said Harry, "Have you heard any rumours about me?"

"I haven't, dear, everyone else we know stopped reading it when that horrible Skeeter woman wrote about Arthur wanting to kill Muggles instead of protecting them," she said bitterly, "Why do you ask?"

"Harry, just say it," said Hermione, "There's no use in drawing it out any longer."

"Mrs Weasley, I'd like you to meet Oliver," said Harry, "He's my fiancé."

"F-fiancé? Harry, you don't mean…"

"I'm gay, Mrs Weasley," Harry said happily, "And I just hope that you can accept me for-"

"Of course I accept you!" Mrs Weasley squealed, "Oh, Harry, I'm so happy for you! And if I might say so, you've picked a _very_ handsome man…"

Oliver blushed and cast a sideways smirk at Hermione, who was struggling to fight back fits of laughter as Harry flailed his arms around wildly while he tried to escape from the crushing hug that Mrs Weasley had dragged him into.

"Yeah," Harry said awkwardly and finally managed to break away from Mrs Weasley, "Anyway, I just wanted you to know that Oliver makes me so happy, the happiest I've ever felt in my life."

"You have no idea how thrilled I am for you, Harry," Mrs Weasley's eyes were beginning to fill with tears, the very event that Harry had been dreading most, second only to having to deliver her the news that he was gay, "You said that you were engaged. Are you getting Bonded?!" she continued to squeal and even started to bounce on the balls of her feet in excitement, "We need to make it huge and have flowers, oh but of course you're a boy you don't want flowers…"

"Mrs Weasley, before you go all wedding crazy, we just want you to know that all we want is a small ceremony with just our closest friends and family," said Harry.

"Nonsense," said Mrs Weasley, "You saved the wizarding world! It's going to be impossible to keep the Bonding a secret!"

"She's right, Harry," said Hermione, "It'll be difficult enough to keep the fact that the saviour of the wizarding world is getting married but it'll even harder with Oliver being a professional Quidditch player."

"I _thought_ I recognised you!" Mrs Weasley said and pointed a finger at Oliver.

"Not to mention the fact that the whole of Diagon Alley knows by now," Hermione continued, "It's going to be really difficult to keep this is a secret, if not completely impossible."

The door swung open and a cold winter breeze fluttered into the shop, making the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on end in the sudden rush of air. A tall, gangly woman with waist-length brown hair stood in the doorway. She opened her mouth as if to shout to her comrades but was silenced by a ferocious glare from Mrs Weasley, who spoke in a voice so full of determination and anger that Harry was sure he was trembling slightly.

"You say one word and I swear I'll hex you into next week," she growled menacingly, "And tell all your friends to mention nothing about what they saw out there. My husband works for the Ministry so I'd be careful I were you!" the woman stood there, her eyes wide in fear, and then ran from the shop, "Now then, boys, let me see the engagement rings," her face had suddenly changed back into the natural motherly smile it almost always had.

Harry took the ring off his finger and handed it to Mrs Weasley, who sighed dreamily as she read the scrolling inscription on the inside.

"Harry, that's beautiful," she smiled through tears and handed him back the ring, "I have to say, Oliver, you seem like a very sweet man. You really must come to dinner with us one day."

"We would," said Oliver, "but me and Harry have a pressing matter that we need to sort out, don't we, Harry?" Harry nodded in agreement, "But it should be sorted by Christmas, if it's any consolation?" Oliver added at the offended look that Mrs Weasley was giving him.

"Oh, it's quite alright," said Mrs Weasley with a weak smile, "Now, about these dress robes I hear you've bought for us. Harry, you really didn't need-"

"I wanted to," Harry interrupted, "You've done so much for me in the past and it's about time I did something to thank you."

Harry handed her the dress robes. She gave him an apologetic glance, as though sorry that he bought the clothes, and stared at them. After several minutes of intense silence, she spoke.

"Harry, these are beautiful but we can't-" she attempted to give them back to him.

"Yes you can," Harry said with a tone of finality, pushing the dress robes back to her, "I don't want to hear any more about it. They're for you and Mr Weasley, a gift from me."

"And me," said Oliver, "I'll give you the money for it later," he added to Harry in a whisper.

"Don't you dare," Harry whispered back, "Yeah, they're a gift from me and Oliver," he smiled at Mrs Weasley, who beamed back at him, her eyes glistening with tears. She pulled him into a final hug and, with a croaky thank you, left the shop.

"I think we ought to get back to Christmas shopping," said Hermione, "We'll have to be back at Hogwarts in an hour. I still need to get Ron's robes and some other things so I'll meet you outside the ice cream parlour in about forty five minutes."

"We'll meet you there, then," Harry and Oliver walked out of the shop into the bitter chill of the winter's day beyond.

"I'm heading into Quality Quidditch Supplies," Harry said to Oliver, "Where are you going?"

"Candycane's," said Oliver, "My sweet tooth is driving me crazy. I'm going to get my grandmother a packet of Drooble's and a box of Bertie Bott's. What about you?"

"I'm just going to get a few pieces for my Firebolt," said Harry. Oliver seemed rather put-out by this. It nearly killed Harry to see Oliver looking so disappointed but he wasn't going to ruin the surprise that he had in store for him. That truth of the matter was that Harry had been planning on buying a Firebolt for Oliver for a while now, and the fact that the price had gone down dramatically had little to no effect on Harry's determination to get his fiancé the present that he so obviously wanted; Harry would have paid sixty, a hundred, or even a thousand galleons if it meant that he would see Oliver's beautiful face light up on Christmas morning as he unwrapped his gift.

Harry set off for Quality Quidditch Supplies, whilst Oliver walked briskly towards the sweet shop. Crowds of people were now flooding back out into the high street, yet they paid no attention to Harry or Oliver and merely carried on straight ahead as though the two boys were of no significance anymore; it looked as though the woman in Madame Malkin's had heeded Mrs Weasley's warning and alerted the others to keep their heads down and their mouths shut as they plodded on with their Christmas shopping.

Quality Quidditch Supplies was a considerably small shop but appeared to be rather pristine and fresh from the outside; its windows sparkled and the outer walls were a bright white. A sign above the front window read out the name of the store in curly golden letters on a dark brown plank of wood. Harry grasped the brass handle on the clean oak door and pushed it open with the tiniest of creaks. He gasped as he marvelled at the colossal amounts of different Quidditch robes and equipment, as well as posters and pictures all signed by the various teams from across the world. Along one side of the shop was a long shelf full to the brim with many different broomcare sets, as well as tiny models of different broomsticks and figurines of many famous Quidditch players. Curious, Harry strode over to the shelf. He was mildly surprised when the model broomsticks suddenly took flight and whizzed around the shop, some of them carrying a figurine or two on their tiny saddles, chasing tiny specks of golden light that turned out to be minute models of Golden Snitches. He browsed through the selection, thinking to himself which ones he was going to get for Ron, and which ones he was going to get for Oliver.

"Let's see…" he muttered to himself, "Alex Blackwater, not bad but no match for my Keeper… Edward Cullen, ugh it's covered in glitter," he pushed the rather ugly figurine to very back of the shelf where the wood was covered in a thick layer of dust, "Richard Evans… _Evans?_ Emily Figg, must be a relative of Arabella… Lucas Hartshorn, I wouldn't put a mirror in front of him unless you want seven years of bad luck… Oliver Wood, there's my baby… Charles Durs-Dursley?!" the last name he couldn't help but shout out, causing a few other patrons in the shop to cast dangerous glances at him. The owner of the shop, a portly man with large round spectacles that made him look like a praying mantis and a few dark sun spots on his sagging skin, scuttled over to him.

"Excuse me, young- oh my! Harry Potter! How wonderful it is to see you in my shop!" he beamed, his eyes darting straight to the lightning bolt scar on his forehead, "I've been reading the Daily Prophet, I trust things are going well with you and Mr Wood?" he asked.

"Not to sound rude or anything," said Harry, "But I really just wanted to do a bit of Christmas shopping before I have to go back to Hogwarts."

"Oh, of course, terribly sorry," the old man seemed rather disappointed but bustled back over to the till regardless, leaving Harry to pick up the things he needed. First, he picked up a big box of Bryan Bristle's Broomcare Set and then grabbed three figurines, one of Blackwater, one of Hartshorn and one of a Chudley Cannons player called Lexi Stroma, before moving along the shelf to see what he could pick up for Oliver. He eventually settled on a full-sized model of the Firebolt and a few other figurines. The model looked good but it was nothing compared to the glorious shine and wonderful craftsmanship that the real thing had; Harry could see the cracks in the wood where the model had been pieced together.

"They could have made more of an effort," he sighed to himself slightly agitatedly, but he wasn't really concerned; the real Firebolt that he was going to buy for Oliver would look a lot better and would no doubt be of considerably greater quality. Then out of the corner of his eye he saw it. Standing on the very fine tips of its impossibly-straight bristles on the furthest wall in the shop was the Firebolt, shimmering in the fresh rays of sunshine that were now blazing in through the window as the light danced over its glossy surface, the subtle vibrations from the broom visible as the reflections of the people nearby quivered. Without realising that he was doing it, Harry sighed dreamily. He had become so used to seeing his Firebolt in its current state (its bristles were slightly askew and the saddle and handle definitely needed polishing) that he completely forgotten what a brand new one looked like but he revelled in its magnificent glory as he made his way towards the broomstick. He considered himself to be extremely lucky; it was the final one in the shop, all the other brackets at either side that held the brooms in place were completely empty, and it looked as though there had been some form of struggle to get to them because there were loose twigs scattered on the floor. The shop owner came bustling over once again.

"Ah yes," he said darkly, "The Firebolt. Had a real war going on in here about an hour ago, people were going absolutely mental to get to them because of the huge price drop. I'd had enough, though, and I called the sale off. Ten galleons from sixty, what _was_ I thinking…" he wandered off again, muttering under his breath.

"Excuse me," said Harry before the old man was out of earshot again, "But how much is it?"

"The price is back up to sixty galleons, weren't you listening, boy? Now, run along, I doubt that a schoolboy such as yourself would be able to afford such a highly-priced broomstick," he had grown considerably colder towards Harry after Harry had asked to be left alone, and it was quite unnerving. Such a big change in a little amount of time, Harry thought to himself, and I thought the Nocturnimagus changed quickly.

"I'll take it," Harry said definitively.

"Mr Potter, I hardly believe that a boy, a _student_ no less, could afford such an expen- Oh my!" he quickly cut himself off once he saw Harry haul a huge pile of golf out of his pockets and dump it onto the counter next to the till, "So sorry!" the shop owner appeared to be suffering some form of heart attack but still had the energy and the strength to make the sale, "Let me get that for you," he took the Firebolt, wheezing and panting, into the back room where he returned from five minutes later with the broomstick neatly wrapped three-fold and covered in "what Muggles call 'bubble-wrap'. Apparently, it's a very useful packaging material," the old man bumbled as he handed Harry the broom, "Now the Firebolt, along with everything else you have there, comes to… eighty one galleons."

"Hold on a minute," said Harry, "I just need to grab something else," he placed the figurines and broomcare set onto the counter and walked over to a large rack of Quidditch robes. There were all sorts of different team robes, ranging from Puddlemere United to the Wimbourne Wasps, and the Sweetwater All-stars to the Toyohashi Tengu.

"I'd buy Oliver the Puddlemere United robes," Harry muttered to himself; it was fast becoming a frequent habit of his, "but it'd be a little insensitive since he can't stand the team. But I remember him saying that he supported the Wimbourne Wasps, so I'll buy those for him. Oh, and he likes the Holyhead Harpies so I'll get them for him, too," he picked up the bright yellow-and-black team robes of the Wimbourne Wasps and the dull grey-and-red uniforms of the Holyhead Harpies, before taking them back to the counter where the shop owner added the amounts onto the cost.

"A hundred and seven galleons and three sickles, please," the shop owner said, irritated possibly because of Harry taking his time to choose what to buy, "Thank you for your custom," he said grumpily and stalked off, leaving Harry to stuff the figurines into his extremely lighter pockets and sling the model of the Firebolt, along with the real thing, over his shoulder, along with the carrying the large box of Bryan Bristle's Broomcare Set in one hand, which meant that only his other hand was free to do any sort of magic or other activity. Before he left the shop, however, Harry made sure to conceal the two long parcels with a strong Disillusionment Charm in order to make sure that the surprise wasn't ruined if Oliver saw them by mistake; when he got back to Hogwarts, he would put the gifts into his wardrobe so that nobody else could see them once the effects of the Charm wore off. Harry would just have to trust Oliver not to go looking for his presents when this eventually happened but he was glad that it was the sort of trust he could give his fiancé.

Harry's thoughts drifted back to those of Oliver as he made his way out of the shop with his pockets considerably lighter, yet fuller, and his arms filled with presents. As he walked down the high street he looked at his watch. He still had ten minutes before he would need to meet Hermione and Oliver outside the ice cream parlour, which meant that there was just enough time to grab a few sweets for himself and a small ice cream before heading back to Hogwarts.

He made his way over to Candycane's Confectionery Craziness and walked inside, where an amazing aroma of strawberries and other fruits met his nostrils and made him inhale deeply as he savoured the heavenly scent. Towers of boxes of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans stood in many places on the shop floor, some forming great pyramids and some even going so far as to have been modelled into the shape of a Quidditch stadium. Mountains of other different sweets and confectioneries covered the rest of the shop floor; it was a wonder that the customers could even breathe in the shop, let alone walk around on the barely-visible wooden flooring. There was no sign of Oliver.

Harry wanted so desperately to try each and every sweet he could see but he had put himself on a tight schedule; he quickly grabbed a few boxes of Bertie Bott's Beans, several Chocolate Frogs and a dozen packets of Drooble's Best-Blowing Gum, threw money down on the counter for the shopkeeper, stuffed the sweets into his pockets, which needed an Extension Charm before they would fit on top of the figurines and remaining gold, and then ran back out of the shop into the high street beyond. He made a mental note to visit that shop when the Nocturnimagus business had been dealt with; he still needed to voice his concerns about Hedgeforth and Swampstead to Oliver.

The throng of shoppers seemed to be thinning out now; there were only a few stragglers left behind in the empty street, dashing madly around into every shop before closing time. Harry glanced down at his watch and saw that he had ten minutes left before meeting Hermione and Oliver, so he decided that he would try and grab an ice cream. Despite the bitter chill in the air the hurrying around and moving in and out of shops had made Harry feel very hot and sweaty; an ice cream seemed to be the perfect thing about now and he was soon heading in the direction of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, licking his lips at the thought of a tasty strawberry-chocolate crunch ice cream. But when he reached the Parlour he saw that he was not the only one who had had the same idea; Hermione was sat eating a treacle tart flavoured sundae at one of the tables, apparently lost in thought.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry smiled and ordered his ice cream from the kindly old Florean Fortescue, who was busying himself with cleaning cutlery and dishes behind the counter in the shop. The old wizard smiled, nodded, and started bustling around, pulling different levers and pressing several buttons. The ice cream appeared as if out of nowhere and the old man had quickly thrust the ice cream into Harry's hand, rather enthusiastically, but shook his head when Harry reached into his pockets to give him money.

"No need, my boy," he smiled widely, "It's just under a month until Christmas and I'm trying to get rid of this left-over ice cream before it all goes to waste."

Harry was about to question the parlour owner about where his ice cream actually came from but decided against it; he shouldn't ask the old man to reveal his trade secrets.

"Hello, Harry," Hermione seemed to be rather pleased with herself as she continued to eat her sundae, with Mr Fortescue scuttling back into the ice cream parlour, "I never thought that I would find myself buying an ice cream on day like this but all this running around has gotten me really hot, so I thought I would come and have a bit of a break before we get back to Hogwarts. So, what did you get?"

"I got a few figurines for Ron and two sets of Quidditch robes for Oliver," Harry said and then dropped his voice significantly as though someone might be listening in. Hermione had to lean in close to him in order to hear what he was saying, "There was one Firebolt left over in the shop."

"One? I would have expected them to all be sold out, what with the price being reduced to ten galleons," Hermione spooned another piece of ice cream into her mouth.

"Me too," said Harry, "But when I spoke to the owner he said that he had to call off the sale because there was a rush to buy them when the sale was announced. Apparently, it was too much for him to handle, so he put the price back up to sixty galleons."

"Wow…" Hermione trailed, "What are you telling me this for?" she asked suddenly, as though confused as to why Harry was talking about Firebolts when she didn't have a particular interest in Quidditch. Then it clicked, "Harry… you did _buy_ the Firebolt, didn't you? I mean, come on, sixty galleons isn't exactly cheap."

"Of course I did!" Harry said indignantly, "I'm not a thief and I'm well aware that sixty galleons isn't cheap but I really wanted to get Oliver something nice for Christmas."

"Harry, I'm sure he would have been thrilled with the Quidditch robes alone but don't you think you might be overdoing it with the broomstick?" Hermione argued. If Harry didn't know any better, he would have thought that Hermione was jealous of the fact that he was making a bigger fuss over his first Christmas with Oliver than Ron appeared to be making with Hermione at all, but Harry wasn't going to pry into such personal matters as those; it would be up to Ron and Hermione to sort their problems out themselves.

"Hermione, it's my first Christmas with Oliver and I want it to be special," Harry said as he scooped some of his own ice cream into his mouth, savouring the fruity taste and the crunchiness of the chocolate, "I know it seems a little much but I love him and I would have gone to the ends of the Earth to get the F-"

"Shhhh!"Hermione silenced him with a quick placement of her finger on her lips, "Oliver is on way his way over," she whispered.

"Hi, Hermione," Oliver smiled and took a seat next to Harry. The handle of the invisible Firebolt almost made contact with Oliver's shoulder as he sat down, the fabric of his jacket skimming the glossy oak and causing the vibrations in the broom to increase. Harry fought back sniggers as the broom vibrating broom tickled his shoulder and both Oliver and Hermione were looking at him as though he belonged in St Mungo's, "Harry, what's so funny?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly and shifted in his seat so as to make it look as though he was getting comfortable, when in actuality he was moving the Firebolt over to his other shoulder so that it was nearest to Hermione. A low growling suddenly erupted out of thin air and Harry whirled his around in order to see where it was coming from. Hermione appeared to have heard it too because she was also looking around to see where the sound had come from,

"That sounded an awful lot like-" Hermione started.

"The Nocturnimagus," Harry interrupted, "But how can it be? There's no point in attacking us while we're awake; it can only really get our powers if we're dream-"

"_The woman was wrong, boy! I already have the powers I need! My goal now is to destroy YOU TWO!_" Out from the shadows at the very end of the street came the horribly-familiar black-cloaked figure, its evil red eyes glinting with malice. With a sweep of its hand, a trail of flame burst forth and seared towards the ice cream parlour but Harry was quick to react; he sent a jet of water flying through the air to meet the fire, where the flames sizzled and the liquid bubbled, swirling up into the sky like two snakes engaged in a fierce battle. Any shoppers still in the street were now scarpering and diving for cover in one of the few shops that were still open, "_EVERTE STATUM!_" the Nocturnimagus thrust a hand in Oliver's direction while Harry was distracted by the fire-water battle going on above. It felt as though someone had swung a sledgehammer into Oliver's chest; he bulleted away from the table, spinning and whistling through the air and collided with dove-white marble of Gringotts before slumping to the ground, heavily winded.

"Oliver, no! Hermione, take all our things and get back to Hogwarts!" Harry bellowed as he prepared for the fight ahead. Hermione felt around haphazardly for all of their gifts, sighing in relief when she could no longer feel anything else lying on or under their seats and table, although at one point she was sure that one of the gifts from Oliver had tried to bite her. I must be imagining things, she thought to herself amidst the chaos. It tried again but Hermione refused to let go. With a loud crack she Disapparated, leaving Harry and an extremely dazed Oliver to face the Nocturnimagus.

"You want a fight, you've got one!" Harry shouted.


	26. Skirmish in Diagon Alley

**Chapter Twenty Six – Skirmish in Diagon Alley**

Harry gritted his teeth and soared into the air, a trail of golden sparks flying out behind him as he ascended far above the high street; Big Ben became visible, as did the Houses of Parliament and the London Eye. The Nocturnimagus grunted and shot upwards in a dense black fog, the only other source of light being the evil red glint in its ferocious eyes as it tore the street below apart with only a few simple flexes of its long, thin finger and a couple of waves of its spider-like hands. The tables and chairs at the ice cream parlour scattered everywhere and the animals at the Magical Menagerie were now roaming around the street like lost sheep. Oliver had managed to recover slightly from his stun and was now back on his feet, readying himself for the struggle to come. He lifted off the ground with a slight moan as the muscles in his sides ached from the impact with the marble of Gringotts.

"Oliver!" Harry shouted as he kept his eyes transfixed on the Nocturnimagus that was slowly starting to circle him in the air, "I know who the Nocturnimagus is! It could be either Hedgeforth or Swampstead."

"Or it could even be both," another loud growl erupted from behind Harry but he was determined to keep his eyes fixed on the Nocturnimagus in front of him. A second black-cloaked figure drifted into sight and settled beside the Nocturnimagus, the exact same sinister red glow in its eyes. Without a single word, both of the Nocturnimagi took off their hoods, revealing the two people that Harry and Oliver had been suspecting; Rynold Hedgeforth and Milia Swampstead. Yet they held no resemblance to Dumbledore's appearance the previous day; whilst Dumbledore's face had been sullen and full of scratches Hedgeforth and Swampstead seemed to be radiating with a bright glow and their skin was flawless, even though the entirety of their eyes were a deep crimson and glinted menacingly. But once their hoods had been lowered their voices suddenly returned to normal, as though it was the hoods that had given them the vicious growls, "But both of you have already worked that out, haven't you?" Swampstead spat.

"You should have- ugh- guessed that we'd work it out," Oliver was floating over towards Harry, clutching his ribs, "Harry's had experience in treachery before so he isn't just going to fall for it again."

"You didn't seem to suspect us when you saw us at that ridiculous bar the old man set up," Hedgeforth laughed, "What made you change your tune?"

"I remembered that every time there was an attack, neither of you were around," Harry retorted, "That was enough to get me to suspect you."

"Your evidence seems very minimal," Swampstead gave a sweet laugh horribly like Dolores Umbridge's, "How do you expect to convince the Ministry that it's _us_ who are Nocturnimagi? That's if you make it away from here alive, of course," she added with a smile that seemed so strained she looked as though her face was about to crack open with the tension of the leer.

"How have you already managed to get the powers you need?" Oliver shouted, a slight tingling running through his veins from the hatred that was rising inside of him.

"The process should have taken one month but we found a way to… 'accelerate' it," Hedgeforth gloated.

"What process?" Harry asked and cast Hedgeforth and Swampstead a filthy glare.

"They've siphoned Dumbledore's powers," Oliver said flatly, "That's why they're able to use all the powers we can."

"Ah yes," said Hedgeforth, "One thing that I have found rather intriguing over the last month or so is why you, Mr Wood, did not show any signs of love-bearer capabilities; that was, until I remembered that there were such things that could grant a person similar powers."

"Vinculum Duo," Harry said, "You're talking about Vinculum Duo."

"Exactly," said Swampstead, "And when we worked out that the one you were supposed to connect with was our dear Mr Wood here, we set about to try and kill one of you before you could make that connection; we knew that if you managed it before we could get the powers necessary we wouldn't stand a chance against either of you," she added bitterly, "It was I who attacked you in your dream, Potter. I who almost finished you off with the Killing Curse before your _boyfriend_ interrupted and threw me into the Black Lake. I woke up just as I hit the water; MY BED WAS SOAKING WET!"

"But luckily," Hedgeforth continued, "we managed to break Dumbledore, and all of his powers became ours to use to meet our own ends. With the power we have now, we'll be able to destroy the wizarding and Muggle worlds alike and repopulate the Earth with only pure-blood wizards, and Nocturnimagi to boot."

"Except there's one big flaw in your plan," Oliver said smugly and wrapped an arm around Harry, "We still stand in your way."

"You think _that_ will stop us?" Swampstead scoffed, "Ha! With Dumbledore's powers alone we're strong enough to wipe both of you out!"

"How did you even manage to break Dumbledore, anyway?" Harry asked, hoping that they were bluffing, "He has one of the strongest minds I've ever met."

"_Had_," Hedgeforth corrected him, a leer spreading over his face, "You see, the poor old man didn't have much of a mind left once we'd finished tormenting him in his dreams. It appears that the death of his younger sister has much more of an effect on him than anyone previously thought. What with us being able to control his dreams, we also had access to his most private thoughts and, what do you know, we found the place to be a goldmine of things to drive the old man batty with! Of course, he wasn't aware that it was us driving him crazy until it was too late; once he'd lost his mind completely, we were able to take over without any resistance; his Occlumency proved quite useful in struggling against us, even if he was unaware of it. Unfortunately, only one of us can control a dream at the same time, so we had to take it in turns to drive him into insanity, otherwise it would have been done much faster and you two, Misters Potter and Wood, would have been killed long ago! But no matter, we have the powers we need. All we need to do now is dispose of you two and we can put our plan into action!"

"What do you mean, _had_?" Harry asked, anger bubbling deep inside him.

"Isn't it obvious?" Swampstead chuckled sweetly, making Harry want to punch the sick grin off her face, "We no longer had need for him, so we did away with the old fart! He's dead, Potter!"

"McGonagall told us that you'd only have the full powers if you managed to siphon them from us!" Harry said.

"Look at us, you stupid boy!" Hedgeforth barked, "Do you still believe what that foolish woman told you?! According to her, we shouldn't even be able to attack you in the real world, but look at us! We're standing, _flying_ even, right in front of your very eyes!"

"Like we said," Swampstead leered, "we already have the powers we need. We just need to kill you two and then we'll have nothing standing in our way."

She flicked her wrist in Harry's direction, causing a huge bolt of bright blue light to burst forth from her open palm and surge through the air towards him where it made contact with his gut and sent him careening into the white marble of Gringotts. He grunted loudly as he impacted with the side of the building. Swampstead turned to face Oliver but he was already on the move; soaring through the air in a bright haze of golden light he bulleted around Hedgeforth and Swampstead, immediately starting his assault. Hexes and curses flew from his lightning-fast hands and jetted towards the two Nocturnimagi, who dodged the attacks by rocketing higher into the air, a dense black fog billowing around them, their red eyes glinting with malice even stronger than before. Oliver had never felt such anger as he did now, and he knew that it was far more than anything could have ever encountered; this was pure hatred and he wanted to make the Nocturnimagi pay for all the things they had done. Harry had made a quick recovery and was also starting to fight back. He and Oliver were going to show Hedgeforth and Swampstead that no amount of power could defeat pure love and they were determined to being the past two months' struggling to an end, and they wouldn't stop fighting until it did.

Oliver swept his arm upwards, tracing a line in the air from the tables down below up to the Nocturnimagi above. The tables lifted up off the ground and rocketed towards Hedgeforth so fast that he wasn't quick enough to react, and ended up having the glass surface pounding flat into his face, causing his nose to crack and fresh blood to splatter against the table. He roared in rage and sent a blaze of fire searing through the air in Oliver's direction. Harry made to intervene but was stopped when Swampstead surged forward in a black haze and charged directly into him, causing them both to lose control as they zoomed around Diagon Alley, Swampstead clawing and scratching at Harry's face, in a contrasting blend of black and gold as the energy of the duel smashed shop windows, tore off roof tiles and threw the cages outside the Magical Menagerie, the animals still inside, into the Muggle street beyond.

The action hadn't gone unnoticed and there were now crowds of people, Muggles no less, hording on the cobbles behind the Leaky Cauldron, pointing and staring as the duel grew fiercer. Some of them took the time to move the stray cages onto the pavement, but they were soon engrossed by the intense battle above. They stared, transfixed, as Oliver and Hedgeforth became engaged in a fierce struggle using the elements. They matched each other point-for-point; as Oliver assaulted him with a barrage of ice balls, Hedgeforth created a wall of searing flame to melt them, and countered with a maelstrom of flaming boulders, which Oliver extinguished with a gush of water.

Harry and Swampstead continued to whirl around Diagon Alley like a giant bumblebee, the mix of black and gold becoming almost blinding as they started to cast hexes haphazardly in the hopes that they would hit each other, but to no avail; instead Diagon Alley became a warzone as the different spells hit and chipped the stonework of every shop and left deep trenches in the street where the curses had gouged their way into the earth.

"You want to see something _cool_, Mr Wood?" Hedgeforth smirked maliciously, "Ice has a lot of uses but you need a _sharp_ mind in order to get the _point_."

Hedgeforth swung his arm backwards, and five flexible rails of ice extricated themselves from his fingers, coiling and twirling though the air until they reached a fine point at the end, with the rest of the ice congealing behind it to form a great ice blade, which Swampstead and Harry narrowly avoided as they sailed past, their disjointed curses merely rebounding off of the gleaming clear surface without leaving so much as a scratch. Oliver's eyes widened in fear.

"What's wrong, Mr Wood?" Hedgeforth grinned madly, the fresh blood streaming down his face and making him look crazier than ever, "Scared?"

Oliver shook his head rapidly to bring himself out of his frozen state. He did the first thing he could think of and began to rub his hands together so fast that he started to get friction burns, but he ignored the intense heat and continued to gather the energy need to make his next move. Hedgeforth charged and Oliver thrust his hands forward. A huge stag made up entirely of flames burst from his outstretched palms and galloped through the air towards Hedgeforth, its target being the brittle hilt of the sword clutched tightly in Hedgeforth's hand; if the immense power of Harry and Swampstead's curses hadn't been enough to damage the ice blade itself, Oliver would have to aim for the only logical weak point. Faster and faster the stag cantered, and closer and closer the great ice blade got. Oliver's heart pounded, hoping against hope that his Fire Patronus would shatter the sword. The stag made contact with its target and, to Oliver's immense relief, the handle shattered. A bright flash of orange and white light erupted as the Fire Patronus impacted with the ice, and while the handle shattered completely, the blade was sent soaring out of Hedgeforth's grip, leaving him with only a bare fist to strike Oliver with, but his attempt at a punch failed as Oliver seized his chance to counter and created a huge vortex of wind with which he sent Hedgeforth soaring upwards into the sky. Taking full advantage of Hedgeforth's complete helplessness, Oliver swung his arm in a great sweeping motion from the restraint-free sword up towards the former Hufflepuff coach. The great ice blade stopped instantly, turned and aimed its point directly up at Hedgeforth and propelled itself through the air, the wind whistling past as it grew closer and closer towards its target, who remained caught in the vortex, unable to escape his incoming fate.

Harry and Swampstead had managed to break away from each other several seconds before Oliver has disarmed Hedgeforth, and both of them now drifted in mid-air, staring up as the blade hurtled towards the gangly man who was now struggling mightily to free himself from the giant twister of air that had kept him trapped and jostled him around. As the blade came within feet of Hedgeforth, Oliver let the vortex evaporate into nothingness, leaving the former Hufflepuff coach to remain suspended in the air, facing his fate head-on. With a slicing sound, followed by a roar of pain, the point punctured Hedgeforth's torso and impaled him through to the other side, leaving one half of the ice blade layered in blood and the other half almost completely clean aside from a few dribbles of crimson fluid from Hedgeforth's gaping mouth. The Muggles in the street beyond screamed at the horrific sight, and Hedgeforth merely floated in mid-air, staring at them for a while, before turning his head to face Swampstead, whose eyes were filling rapidly with tears.

"M-make them… p-pay…" he spluttered, blood spraying all over the blade that had impaled him. His eyes opened wide once more. A sudden rush of air whistled around the now-silent Alley and lifted Harry, Oliver and Swampstead's hair slightly, followed by a intense red glow emanating from Hedgeforth's eyes and a beam of light exploding out of thin air, zooming towards Swampstead and hitting her squarely in the head. She fell from the air like a ragdoll and landed with a dull thud in the street below, apparently unconscious. Hedgeforth gave a final gasp of agony and then slumped forward onto the cold blade, dead yet still levitating in the air.

"Ollie…" Harry said breathlessly and drifted over to where Oliver stood. They both showed signs of a great struggle; Harry's face was littered in cuts and scratches from Swampstead's vicious attack and both he and Oliver had sustained significant damage to their torsos after being slammed into Gringotts, "We did it… We can get Bonded now…"

Oliver faced Harry and gazed deeply into the younger boy's emerald eyes, a sudden feeling of intense love he had never experienced before consuming him. Harry gazed back and felt a connection unlike any other; this was new, and made Harry feel as though he and Oliver were one. Harry sighed in comfort as Oliver brought a hand up to caress his cheek and make small circular motions with his thumb, the older boy's sparkling hazel eyes exuberating with passion and deepest longing. Harry swooned at Oliver's incredible beauty and waited eagerly as Oliver closed in for a gentle kiss.

"DON'T THINK THAT YOU'VE WON YET!" Swampstead had blasted the pavement apart, roaring with such an intense anger that her voice was no longer human, but had now assumed that of what could easily have been mistaken for some sort of grand deity. She propelled herself upwards and clapped her hands together, crushing Harry and Oliver against one another without any method of escape, "THIS IS WHERE YOU DIE!"

"NO, IT IS NOT!" a familiar voice echoed throughout Diagon Alley. The Muggles in the street beyond had their heads engulfed in a bright golden light before they fell to the floor, unconscious. At the same time, a ripple of energy seemed to be drawn down over Diagon Alley like a vast, transparent curtain. Five blinding lights and wispy hazes swirled down through the air and settled on the destroyed street below, where their forms solidified into figures that Harry was all-too-pleased to see; Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Alastor Moody, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks. But they weren't the only members of the rescue party; wizards and witches from the different shops and The Leaky Cauldron were now swarming out into the street, their wands raised high and pointing directly at Swampstead.

"HARRY!" Sirius bellowed from the street below, "GET BACK TO HOGWARTS AND TAKE OLIVER WITH YOU! WE'VE GOT THIS COVERED!"

The compression to either side of Harry and Oliver vanished, and they seized the chance to escape. As Harry and Oliver Disapparated, they saw the figure of Milia Swampstead. Her face contorted into a look of purest loathing and she disappeared with a loud crack, a huge shockwave erupting from where she had been floating and sending the people in Diagon Alley crashing to the floor, rolling and tumbling along the desecrated street. Without so much as a pop, Harry and Oliver Disapparated back to Hogsmeade.

They were incredibly glad to get back to Hogsmeade, where Hermione stood waiting for them expectantly. She pulled them both into tight hugs when they Apparated outside The Three Broomsticks.

"I'm so glad you're safe!" she shouted, making them wince slightly as she inadvertently applied pressure to their injured ribs, "Oh, I'm so sorry. What happened? Did you find out who the Nocturnimagus was? Is everything over? Can you two get Bonded now? You need to see Madame Pomfrey to get those wounds looked at."

"Hermione…" Harry sighed exhaustedly as they walked up to the castle, "We're really tired. Please, can you just leave us alone to get some sleep? It's," he looked down at his watch, "Oh, it's only ten past nine. But still, can you just let us be?"

"Yes, of course," Hermione looked very put-out, "Sorry. I'll leave you two alone so that you can go and get some rest."

They walked the rest of the way up to the castle in silence, Harry and Oliver holding each other's hand as they went. The trek up to Gryffindor Tower was arduous, and Hermione's frequent nagging once they'd passed the fourth floor about how they should be in the hospital wing only strengthened their resolve to get a good night's sleep. Besides, Harry and Oliver were able to heal themselves with only a few simple spells that they could easily pull off when they were in bed that night. The stress of the past couple of hours had taken its toll on the couple, and they now sought relief in each other in order to help them relax before they drifted off into whatever Swampstead had planned for them; nowhere was safe for them now, aside from Hogwarts. Harry was certain that the teachers would be on high alert for any suspicious activity, and he had a sneaking suspicion that if the ex-coach suddenly turned up unannounced the teachers would be fast to react. But he was determined to get that out of his mind; he wanted to tend to Oliver's wounds and relax with his fiancé for the night. The moment back in Diagon Alley had made Harry realise that he loved Oliver more than he could possibly imagine, and something inside Harry knew that Oliver felt the same way. They climbed in through the portrait hole, with Harry and Oliver leaving Hermione in the Gryffindor common room as they ascended the stairs to Harry's bedroom, thoughts of the night ahead springing into their minds. Harry closed the door to his room with a quiet click and turned to see Oliver stood at one of the windows gazing out into the murky night beyond.

A thick fog had descended over the grounds and flowed in between the trees of the Forbidden Forest, occasionally seeping out and creeping over the grounds. The sky was pitch black, and the layer of cloud that hung in front of the moon was so dense that it was incredibly difficult to make out any form of light. The only telltale sign that the moon was still there was a very subtle lunar glow at the far edge of the overcast blackness. A light wind rustled the tops of the trees and gave the night air the unmistakable chill of winter.

"It's going to be a difficult time ahead, Snitchy," Oliver said grimly, "You realise that now, don't you?"

"Yeah," said Harry, "But we're in this together."

"Right," said Oliver, "We really need to be careful now that Swampstead has the powers she needs; she's not just going to be attacking us. The other students are in danger now."

"But Hedgeforth said that we were their new targets."

"That last thing Hedgeforth did before he died looked to me to be something similar to a transference of power. If my hunch is correct Swampstead will be a huge challenge even for the both of us to face now. Harry, she'll have even stronger powers now that she has Hedgeforth's energy, and she'll probably want some target practice. We really do need to be careful. I don't want to lose you," Oliver's sparkling hazel eyes were glistening with tears, and it broke Harry's heart to see him in that state.

"Ollie…" Harry pulled Oliver into a hug, making sure not to touch his ribs, "You won't lose me, I promise. Now, come on, let's get these ribs seen to," Oliver gingerly lifted his arms into the air and winced slightly as shards of pain stabbed at his ribs. Harry was careful not to hurt him and slowly lifted Oliver's shirt up from his waist, but as the fabric moved over Oliver's head the older boy hissed and yelped in agony, "Oh, baby, I'm so sorry, but I need to take a look for you," with a final sharp tug, the shirt left Oliver's body completely and Harry dropped it to the floor, "Come and lay down," Harry gestured for Oliver to lay on the invitingly-comfortable bed sheets, stroking Oliver's bare muscled back as the older boy gently laid on his stomach on the soft fabric, his arms separated slightly from his sides.

Harry placed himself into a comfortable position, straddling Oliver just above his butt.

"Now just relax and let me help you unwind," Harry said soothingly, pressing gently into Oliver's back with the tips of his fingers and instantly feeling the muscles starting to loosen beneath the skin. Oliver sighed as he began to relax. He closed his eyes and allowed Harry to work his back, inhaling sharply every now and then when Harry hit a particularly tight or knotted spot.

"Ow," he grunted when Harry accidentally brushed over a sensitive spot where he had collided with Gringotts earlier, "That hurt."

"Sorry," Harry said and leaned over to kiss the part of Oliver's back that he had hurt, "Feel better?"

"A little…" Oliver lifted his head up and turned it slightly so that he could he see Harry, "Your lips are in the wrong place, though…"

"We'll sort that problem out soon," Harry said huskily and placed a hand over Oliver's ribs, "First, we need to fix your ribs. _Episkey!_" A crack like a whip, followed by a light blue glow, and Oliver's ribs were healed, "There. Now we can get to the good stuff," Harry brought his head up to meet Oliver's. He did just as Oliver had done a couple of days previously and curled his tongue around Oliver's earlobe, before flicking it gently and making the older boy shudder, "Looks like I'm not the only one that likes that, eh?" Harry chuckled, "How about we carry on where we left off, my new adorable fiancé?"

"Sounds good if you ask me," Oliver turned himself onto his back, with Harry somehow managing to stay straddled onto him without falling off the bed.

Harry removed his shirt and let it fall to the floor.

"I've been waiting for this," Harry leaned over and claimed Oliver's lips in tender embrace, using his tongue to gently probe at Oliver's mouth, begging for entry. Oliver complied and opened up, letting his tongue loose in the process and engaging Harry's in a battle for supremacy. He cupped his hands up to the back of Harry's head and thrust his tongue deeper into Harry's mouth, the two of them moaning as they became lost in one another, their hearts beating in synch. Harry's hands were free to roam wherever they pleased as Oliver kept their lips locked together. He massaged Oliver's abs and pecs for a while, drawing small circles around the older boy's nipples and gently twisting them before tracing his hands down his torso, past his ribs and waist, and then inside the waistband of Oliver's trousers, stroking the half-hard piece of flesh through the confines of his boxer shorts. Oliver gasped as the friction from the fabric sent miniscule ripples of pleasure coursing through his body and caused his cock to begin throb.

"Damn, Harry, you always know how to get my motor running…"

"Just wait until our honeymoon…" Harry smirked and, with a flick of his hand, he sent Oliver's trousers and pants flying to the floor, letting the now-hard flesh wobble in the sudden movement, "You're going to see stars you never thought existed…"

"I don't doubt it…" Oliver muttered breathlessly as Harry started to suck at the skin on his neck, gently caressing the sensitive skin with the flat of his tongue, "Oh, baby… I love it when you do that…" further and further down Oliver's torso Harry went, licking and flicking at inch after inch of soft bronze skin he could find and curling his tongue into every crevice and groove that ran deep into Oliver's beautiful body, all the while shuffling down the bed slightly to give him space to bend over. He traced subtle rings with the tip of his tongue around Oliver's naval, causing the older boy to giggle, "H-Harry, that tick- oh!" Harry plunged his tongue into Oliver's belly button. Oliver gasped then moaned and swept one hand through Harry's jet-black mane while scrabbling wildly at the sheets next to him, "Snitchy, that felt amazing. Do it again… Ohhhhh yeah that's it…" Harry continued to plunge his tongue in and out of Oliver's naval like a cat lapping milk, "Baby, you're driving me crazy… Ohhhhhhhh!"

"I've tasted your sweet belly button," Harry gave a mischievous grin, "Now I want to taste everything else," he lifted Oliver's legs up from the bed and bent them over so that the older boy's shoulders were touching his knees, granting Harry access to the sensitive skin in between his butt cheeks and the waiting hole beneath, "What a beautiful sight," Harry chuckled and resumed tracing lines down Oliver's muscled body, stopping for a couple of seconds to tease Oliver by circling the base of his pulsating cock with his tongue.

"Baby…" Oliver gasped. Harry moved from the base of Oliver's cock, "W-What are you doing?"

"Relax, Keepie," Harry gave him a reassuring smile, "Just enjoy it," Harry placed his tongue just below Oliver's scrotum and dragged his tongue downwards in an agonisingly-slow movement. The tip of Harry's tongue stroked down the tender skin and touched the outer ring of Oliver's hole, causing the older boy to yelp and cry out in pleasure.

"I see what you're getting at," Oliver chuckled and tried to tilt his hips up so that Harry had greater access to his arse. Harry placed his lips around Oliver's hole started to flick at the outer rings. Oliver moaned and groaned as the sensations grew intense, "W-Wow… Fuck! Oh, baby, it feels so good! Oh my- Harry!" Oliver groaned loudly as Harry poked his way into Oliver's hole with his tongue, thrusting it deep inside and licking around the edges, savouring Oliver's unique taste as he grasped the base of the older boy's leaking cock and began to rub it up and down in such a slow rhythm that Oliver was nearly crippled from the restrained sensations that were attempting to bound through his body, "Ngh! L-Little Snitch! Shit!" Harry pulled away from Oliver's puckered hole and swept a hand over the belt on his jeans. They unbuckled with a dull clanging, slid down his legs and flopped off his feet onto the floor, where Harry was sure he heard something growl and stalk away from the bed. He ignored it and removed his pants, letting his own throbbing cock dangle loosely in the air, "Now _that's_ a beautiful sight," Oliver remarked, his hard length twitching in excitement, a small bead of precum leaking from his slit.

"Looks like your broom needs a bit of spit and polish," Harry smirked and bent back down towards Oliver's painfully-hard cock, licking up the shaft and the circling the tip with his tongue.

Oliver groaned loudly, "Ohhhhhhhhhh!" he wailed as Harry took the entirety of Oliver's length into his mouth one swoop, "Suck it, baby…"

Harry started to bob up and down in a speedy rhythm, using the flat of his tongue to stroke and caress the sensitive underside of Oliver's pulsating cock, which was leaking precum profusely into Harry's mouth, and it tasted divine. Oliver swept his hands through Harry's wild hair as he closed his eyes to focus solely on the intense sensation that were being delivered to him in waves. Harry closed his eyes and savoured Oliver's sweet taste. It was perfect. A tightening grip on his hair told Harry that Oliver was nearing the edge. He pulled away from the throbbing length and laid on top of Oliver, aligning their faces so that they could reconnect their lips in an enchanting kiss. The love in the air was at fever pitch, and Harry was about to make sure that they would get the release and relaxation that they so desperately needed at that moment.

"Are you ready, baby?" Harry whispered to Oliver. They gazed into each other's glistening eyes for a while before Oliver nodded, "_Lubrico!_" Harry slathered lubricant onto his throbbing length and spread the rest onto Oliver's waiting hole, "Here comes the fun…" he placed the head of his cock at Oliver's entrance and gave a short, sharp push. The tip slipped in seamlessly, and Oliver moaned loudly as the muscles in his arse began to stretch, his shouting growing louder as Harry pushed further inside until he pressed directly against Oliver's prostate. Oliver screamed as his prostate sent massive waves of pleasure crashing through his body.

"Fuck, Harry!" Oliver yelped and gripped Harry's arse cheeks, pulling him in until he could feel Harry's balls touching his arse, "That feels so good! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! YEAH!" Harry started thrusting in an agonisingly-slow rhythm, screwing his own face up as he focussed on the sensations that were starting to thunder through his body. Oliver wailed, Harry repeatedly slamming against that one special spot inside hiss arse, gripped ever-tighter at Harry's arse cheeks and wrapped his legs around the younger boy's waist, "Come on, baby… do it a little faster…" Oliver's breathing was ragged, and he could do nothing but scream as Harry obeyed, pumping faster and faster in and out of his tight hole, "Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!" FUCK!".

Harry wanted so badly for it to be slow and gentle every time he made love to Oliver but he just couldn't contain himself this time, and by the looks of things neither could Oliver. Slamming in and out of Oliver for the past five minutes was really starting to take its toll on Harry, and he could feel sweat erupting into beads of water on his forehead. Oliver seemed to be in the same position because he was scrabbling wildly at the bed sheets, a mix of pleasure and discomfort etched into his face. Harry knew that Oliver was getting nearer and he wanted to help him reach that level of bliss that they both loved enjoying together. He went to reach for Oliver's cock, which was now leaking laborious amounts of clear fluid onto the older boy's incredibly toned abs. The sight was amazing; Harry would usually have revelled in the glorious view he had of his fiancé simpering beneath him, but Harry was starting to suffer from exhaustion and he was sure that if he didn't get the release he needed so badly very soon he would explode. The same could not be said for Oliver, however, whose body had finally succumbed to the overwhelming sensations and allowed his cock to explode with reams of creamy fluid, completely untouched, and splatter up his abs and pecs, coating his torso in a delicious layer of sticky white goo. Harry followed soon after and erupted inside Oliver as the older boy's arse constricted around his pulsating cock, squeezing every last drop of boy juice out of him. He collapsed on top of Oliver, both of them panting and laughing, and became covered in Oliver's semen, which Harry proceeded to lick from the older boy's body and savoured the sweet taste, snuggling into Oliver as they descended from a level of the utmost euphoria together, continuously whispering sweet nothings to each other.

"I love you, baby…" Oliver gave Harry a sweet kiss.

"I love you too…" Harry sighed exhaustedly and tried to reach his face up to Oliver's, but his body was too spent to allow him to do anything. Another low growl erupted from the edge of the bedroom, "What the hell is making that noise?" Harry said slightly agitatedly, "I heard something growl when I put my trousers on the floor but I was too busy making love to you to care about it."

"Oh, I forgot about that!" Oliver suddenly realised, "I meant to show you earlier. It's an early Christmas present from me," he lifted Harry off of him, muttered a cleaning spell and walked over to the edge of the room.

"A Christmas present that growls at me? Are you mad?" Harry said nervously.

"Don't worry, it's nothing dangerous. It just growls when it wants something," Oliver smiled, "And I think it wants to meet its new owner."

"Owner?" Harry repeated.

"Yeah, owner," Oliver confirmed.

"Ollie, is that…"

Oliver tapped an invisible something on the back and muttered a spell. An liquid-like substance trickled down over the thing like some sort of fluid curtain, revealing the creature that was stood in the corner. It looked exactly like that of a Jack Russell, only with a forked tail instead of a normal straight one. Tiny white spots dotted its back, which was mainly black and shaggy.

"Harry, this is called a Crup," Oliver explained, "It's just like a normal dog, except that it has two tails and is very ferocious towards Muggles, but it's extremely loyal to wizards. We'll have to cut its second tail off when it gets to five weeks old in case a Muggle sees it. Don't worry, there's a painless Severing Charm we can use to remove it," he added quickly when Harry gave him an appalled expression, "What do you think?"

"I think you're absolutely incredible," Harry, having gotten a second wind in the thrill of having a Crup, dived at Oliver and started to rain kisses down upon his face and neck, "And the Crup is an amazing gift, Ollie. I love it!" he stroked the Crup on its head. The animal's tongue lolled out of its mouth and its tails waggled happily.

"So… how about you give it a name?" Oliver suggested.

Harry stood up and remained there for a few minutes, thinking about what he could call the Crup. So many names swam through his mind but he just couldn't seem to settle on one in particular until a vast amount of time later, when Oliver appeared to growing more tired by the minute. The clouds in the night sky outside had completely covered the moon, and not a single ray of light was able to break through the dense wall of vapour. The grounds were eerie; not a tree rustled despite the wind that was rushing in between them and the grass on the lawns remained as motionless as ever. Eventually, Harry voiced the name that his mind had finally settled on; a name that meant a lot to him and would mean that he could have a feeling of closeness to someone who he could not be close to in reality, a person who Harry was reminded heavily of when he looked at the Crup.

"Snuffles."


	27. Meeting Mrs Wood

**Chapter Twenty Seven – Meeting Mrs Wood**

The events in Diagon Alley had not gone unnoticed, as Harry and Oliver had both correctly predicted. Although the wizarding world knew that there had been a large-scale duel there, the majority of them did not know the full extent of the fight; nobody apart from the Order of the Phoenix knew that it was Harry and Oliver that had fought two Nocturnimagi, nobody knew that Harry and Oliver had invoked the power of Vinculum Duo, nobody knew that Dumbledore was dead, nobody knew that the two former coaches were the Nocturnimagi, and nobody knew that Swampstead had doubled her strength when Hedgeforth died. Whilst Harry could safely say that Sirius and the rest of the Order would surely inform the teachers of the school as to who the Nocturnimagi were, he knew that it would be up to he and Oliver to break the news that Dumbledore was gone, and he also knew that once the school found out about their old headmaster's death the responsibility of protecting the school would fall solely upon he and Oliver's shoulders, no matter how much the staff tried to help them; only Harry and Oliver had the capability to defeat Swampstead, and with the knowledge that the remaining Nocturnimagus was stronger than ever before they were both seriously considering asking Professor McGonagall to close the school in order to ensure the safety of the other students. The new headmistress' reaction would be very difficult to predict; although she cared greatly about the education of her students, she also had a huge amount of concern in regards to their safety and well-being, but it was not obvious which one of these would triumph, yet Harry and Oliver both hoped that she would choose to close the school if not for ever, but just until Swampstead had been eliminated, despite there being no telling how long it would take for Harry and Oliver to find her, or how long it would be before she decided to attack them at Hogwarts.

A twinge of guilt struck in Harry's gut at this thought; there would be no doubt that the students and staff would try to make a stand against Swampstead if she attacked, something which Harry knew would be pointless, not only would they be unable to defeat her, they would also probably just get in the way and fail to impede her advancements at all. Harry's guilt ran deeper as his thoughts turned to Dumbledore; the old man who had given up so much in order to protect his staff and students yet was left completely defenceless at the hands of the Nocturnimagi. Harry was going to make sure that he had not died in vain, and he and Oliver were both filled with fierce determination to bring Swampstead down in any way they could.

The day after the skirmish in Diagon Alley Professor McGonagall pulled Harry and Oliver aside at breakfast to talk to them about the previous day's events.

"Your godfather has told me that there was more than one Nocturnimagus," she whispered to them after whisking them out of the Great Hall into the Entrance Hall, "but he didn't know their names. I'd like for you both to tell me who they were."

"Rynold Hedgeforth and Milia Swampstead," Harry said flatly.

Professor McGonagall was shocked to say the least.

"Hedgeforth and Swampstead, the Hufflepuff and Slytherin Quidditch coaches?" she said, alarmed, "Oh my…"

"Minerva, there's something else that you should know…" Oliver muttered, "The Nocturnimagi already had the powers they needed. It's not just us that they were after. They took Albus…"

"I know, Mr Wood," McGonagall said grimly, "They possessed him so that they could get his powers, but I daresay that they'll be able to put up much of a fight."

"But they managed to yesterday, Professor," said Harry, "They've got his powers. They said that by working together they were able to drive him insane much quicker. They had all of Professor Dumbledore's powers and they were trying to kill me and Oliver so that nobody would stand in their way. They wanted to kill everyone on the planet and repopulate it with Nocturnimagi. Once they had all of Dumbledore's powers and we was insane they decided to do away with him. He's dead, Professor."

"I know, Potter," McGonagall sighed gravely, "I was walking along the corridor this morning when I saw the name on the headmaster's door had changed to that of myself. So I walked inside and I saw a portrait of him on the wall. He told me that I needed to protect the school no matter what. I hope you two stop these Nocturnimagi before Christmas, otherwise I'm afraid I'll have to close the school."

"Oliver managed to kill Hedgeforth, Professor McGonagall," Harry said, "but when he died something happened and it looked as though a piece of his power was transferred over to Swampstead. We think her powers might be twice as strong as before. Luckily, I managed to do a fair bit of damage to her so it's possible that she's healing right now, but we don't know where otherwise we'd attack before she can get stronger."

"Well, I suggest that you hurry up, gentlemen. We have guests after the New Year and Merlin knows that I don't want to mess it up, not to mention the fact that the students must be kept safe. Congratulations on your engagement, by the way," she added and whisked off back into the Great Hall where there was a happy chattering mixed in with the clattering of plates and cutlery.

Harry and Oliver followed and sat down at the Gryffindor table next to Hermione; Ron was still up in the hospital wing, although he was starting to recover slightly. Harry had almost forgotten about Snuffles. The Crup barked happily beneath the breakfast table and continuously pawed at Harry's leg, begging to be scratched on his head, even nudging Oliver with his nose at odd increments if he wanted his belly rubbing at the same time. He had taken a liking to Hermione, too, and licked her hand whenever she ducked beneath the table to dip into her schoolbag but she didn't seem to mind too much. Harry swore that he even saw Hermione secretly feeding the Crup bacon, but he didn't tell her that he could see her because it would only ruin the fun she was clearly having with his new pet.

"You really are amazing," Harry whispered to Oliver and kissed him on the cheek, "I couldn't have asked for a better Christmas present. I love you."

"I love you too, Snitchy," Oliver replied and returned the kiss.

"I have a question," Hermione said suddenly, "When are you two planning to get Bonded?"

"I know we said near Christmas," Harry started to scoop bacon and eggs onto his and Oliver's plates, "but I was kind of hoping that we could get Bonded as soon as possible. What do you think, Ollie?"

"I think it sounds great, baby. I can't wait to spend my life with you and the sooner that we get Bonded, the better," Oliver pulled Harry into a sweet kiss, "And our honeymoon looks as though it's going to be fun, too," he added in a quiet mutter.

A high-pitched screeching above signalled the daily arrival of the post owls. They rushed in through the high windows, some with large parcels attached to their legs, some with a few letters, and dropped what they were carrying onto the house tables below, before flying back out of the windows to the Owlery. An unfamiliar tawny owl flew onto the Gryffindor table and landed in front of Harry, while a particularly pretty snowy owl landed in front of Oliver, but it wasn't Hedwig. A letter fell onto the table in front of Hermione, who picked it up, looked at it and excused herself from the table with a, "Be right back."

"Oh, it's a letter from my grandmother!" Oliver beamed and took a brown envelope from the owl's leg, gave the animal a piece of bacon and sent it on its way. He opened the letter.

The tawny owl snapped its beak at Harry in a very irritated way, as though it hated its job and wanted nothing more than to just go to the Owlery. Harry eventually took the letter from the owl after it bit him hard on the arm, drawing a tiny amount of blood.

"Ow! Bloody bird!" he swiped at it with his hand, while Oliver sniggered behind a piece of toast, "What does your letter say?" he asked as the owl flew from the table, clipping its wing around his ear as it went. The Crup barked at the owl, causing several students nearby to glare in Harry's direction; most of the students so far had been very jealous of Harry having a Crup as a pet as well as an owl.

"I sent a letter to her telling her that I've found love and that we were engaged to be Bonded," said Oliver, "She knows what a Bonding is because of my mother, so I figured that it would be the best way for me to tell her. But she doesn't know that it's you I'm engaged to. She's taking it really well, so far. What I don't understand is how she knows that it's _you_ I'm engaged to; I haven't told her yet. Here, read it," he handed Harry the letter. In curly red handwriting it read:

_Dear My Little Captain,  
I guess I could say that I've always known you were different, including the time before you got accepted into Hogwarts. When I sent you to primary school you not once showed any interest in girls, or boys for that matter, and instead you kept your head down in your studies as well as football. But there were times that you were put under so much stress from schoolwork and playing your sports that you lost control of your gift. You were bullied because of your differences, and it devastated me to see you suffer. I was so proud the day you got your letter, and I just knew that you'd finally fit in there.  
I'd known for a while that you'd be magical, ever since I found out that your mother was a witch; why would you not be? But there were also times when I began to suspect that there might something more than just your magical abilities that made you different. I remember after your fifth year at Hogwarts you came back home and couldn't stop talking about a boy called Harry Potter. You would always say how great he was at Quidditch (is that right?) and there were many times when I considered trying to use a Silencing Charm that I'd read in one of your books, even though I knew it wouldn't work. Before then you'd never talked about anybody as much as that boy. But I'm so happy for you, Ollie! You've found someone who you love and from what one of your friends has been telling me, he loves you back just as much, if not more! I've decided to help plan the Bonding ceremony with your friend._

"One of your friends…" Harry repeated.

"Keep on reading," said Oliver.

_I want to meet Harry as soon as you get this letter, unless you have work to do. But I expect an owl back once you've read it and you'd better visit me on the day you do. I know what times that Harry has lessons thanks to your friend so I know what times you'll be free. If I don't see you in the next hour or so, I'll see you tonight at seven.  
Lots of love,  
Grandma_

"So I guess I'll be going to meet your grandmother tonight," Harry said happily, "I think I have an idea who 'your friend' is; Hermione."

"What makes you say that?" Oliver said.

"Who else do you know that likes to meddle in things? And who else do you know that has been asking about the Bonding?"

"You make a good point," Oliver admitted, "We'll talk to her later. Anyway, who's your letter from?"

"No idea," said Harry, "I don't recognise the owl, there isn't a return address, which is odd," he opened the envelope, "and the paper is that A4 that Muggles… use…" his last two words trailed as it dawned on him who the letter was from, and no matter how hard he tried he just couldn't find a way for it to seem possible, "It's from the Dursleys. The handwriting looks like it's from my… aunt…"

"Your aunt? Petunia Dursley? She's a Muggle, isn't she? Treated you like a pile of dung. Remind me to have a word with her and her husband when we get Bonded, I want to give them a piece of my mind for hurting you the way they did…" Oliver was positively steaming at the ears as he thought about all the horrible things that the Dursleys had put Harry through as a child.

Harry's fork dropped to the floor as he read the letter, which had been scrawled in blue ink.

_Harry,  
There is so much that I've been meaning to tell you ever since you received your Hogwarts letter. My reasoning behind the way you were treated may not be to your satisfaction but I want for you to hear me out. I've been getting the Daily Prophet and I'm delighted to hear that you've found someone who you love, although I must say that the pictures of you with your boyfriend were anything but appropriate. I need to talk to you as soon as possible and bring your boyfriend with you, I want to meet him. I'm sorry but I can't explain everything in a letter; you need to hear it from my own mouth.  
Aunt Petunia_

Something inside Harry was screaming at him to go and get the answers that he so desperately needed. It appeared that there was more to aunt Petunia than meets the eye; how could a Muggle have a subscription to the Daily Prophet?

"I'm skipping lessons today," Harry said to Oliver, "I need to go and see what it is that aunt Petunia has to tell me."

"I'll come with you," said Oliver, "I'm not feeling too well today and I can't really be bothered with the first years. One of the other teachers can cover for me."

Hermione came bustling back into the Great Hall, her hair bushed out to even greater proportions than was usual, and slumped down onto the table next to Harry and Oliver.

"Hermione, have you saw this letter?" Harry asked.

"Oh, not another stupid letter!" Hermione snapped, alarming both Harry and Oliver, "Alright then, pass it here so that I can look at it!" she snatched the letter out of Harry's hand and almost ripped it. Her eyes skimmed along the surface of the paper so fast that it was impossible to see her pupils. Her expression changed rapidly to that of a concerned look, "Harry, are you going? It sounds really urgent. You really ought to go."

Harry gave Oliver an incredulous glance, who returned it. Was Hermione really suggesting that he skip lessons for the day?

"Who are you, and what have you done with the real Hermione Granger?" Harry said.

"Honestly, Harry," Hermione laughed, "I really think you should go. It's family matters; I'm sure Professor McGonagall won't mind."

"Professor McGonagall won't mind what, Miss Granger?" Professor McGonagall had heard her name mentioned and walked over to their table.

"I just received this letter, Professor," Harry explained, "I don't know whether I should go or not."

Professor McGonagall took the letter and read it herself.

"I'm sorry, Potter, but I'm afraid I can't let you leave the castle," she said after carefully scrutinising the letter, "You're our only way of protecting the school in case Swampstead attacks.

"But what if it's a fake?" Harry said, "What if someone's just impersonated her?"

"I recognise your aunt's handwriting and I'm very certain that it _was_ your aunt that wrote this," Professor McGonagall said, "But as I have already told you, this school needs protecting. I'm sure you'll be able to see her once all this horrible business has blown over."

"But-"

"No 'buts', Potter," McGonagall said definitively and walked off back to the teachers' table.

"I'm still going to meet your grandmother tonight," Harry muttered to Oliver, "I'd like to see her try and stop me," the Crup barked happily beneath the table, "And we'll need to hide Snuffles in case a Muggle sees his two tails. I'll take my Invisibility Cloak."

The day's lessons couldn't have gone slower; Transfiguration saw Harry and Hermione practicing full-body Transfiguration, which Harry had, surprisingly, managed to get the grasp of before Hermione had even managed to turn an arm into a tree branch. Several students in the class needed a brief stint in the hospital wing after some of their attempts failed disastrously. At the end of the lesson only Harry and Hermione had managed to successfully Transfigure each other into trees. Double Herbology was dull, to say the least. Professor Sprout had the class, a mix of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, re-potting adult Mandrakes, a very boring task indeed and one that Harry was glad to be rid of when the bell to signal lunch rang. After a meal of chicken and ham pie Harry made his way up to one of the most boring subjects at Hogwarts, Divination, while Hermione went off to Arithmancy. He had to endure an hour of Professor Trelawney's constant ramblings about how he was going to die a slow and excruciating death, and was glad to be finally out of the heavily-perfumed room when the bell rang. He quickly made his way to Charms, where his interest in the day peaked a little once the class had learned that they would be charming dummies to dance with each other to 'Do the Hippogriff'. Harry and Hermione had an entertaining hour getting the dummies to dance exactly as instructed at first, but then decided to make it more interesting by having them trying to hit each other with pillows as they danced, much to Professor Flitwick's amusement and delight that they could demonstrate a more complex version of the Charm. The end of the lesson came, and Harry couldn't be more glad to get away from a boring hard day of work; now he could spend his time with his fiancé and visit his, Oliver's, grandmother.

Harry and Hermione bumped into Oliver as they left turned a corner leading to the Grand Staircase away from the Charms corridor. He didn't look very well at all; his face seemed sunken in pale.

"I was just going to come for you," Oliver said grimly, "I owled my grandmother telling her we'll be there as soon as you've finished your lessons. Is that," he hiccupped, "OK?"

"It _would_ be fine," Harry said, "But you aren't well at all. Come on, I'm taking you to the hospital wing."

"I'm fine, Harry," Oliver said, although very unconvincingly, "I feel…"

He couldn't get the last words out; instead he simply crumpled to the floor, unconscious.

"Ollie! Baby, wake up! Wake up!" Harry became frantic with worry, huge waves of terror sweeping over him. His heart twisted and screwed up painfully as he looked into Oliver's stony face, "Hermione, help me! We need to get him to the hospital wing now!"

"R-Right," Hermione stammered in her hurry to take her wand out of her pocket, "_Locomotor Corpus_," Oliver's unconscious body was lifted up into the air by an unseen force and floated eerily above the ground, "Out of the way!" Hermione shouted to the students that had crowded around.

They hurried off down the corridor at a run towards the hospital wing, Oliver floating along behind them, his mouth wide open, the Crup following closely with what appeared to be a concerned expression on its face; luckily, they didn't have to traverse the many steps of the Grand Staircase in order to get Oliver the help he obviously needed. Terrible thoughts swam around Harry's head and clouded his mind; what if Swampstead had found a way to get to Oliver? What if she had found a way to control him? What if Oliver didn't wake up?

They hurtled through the doors of the hospital wing, startling Madame Pomfrey and a peaky-looking Ron as they stormed into the ward.

"Goodness gracious!" she jumped in fright, "What's going on? Get that thing out of here!" she shouted as Snuffles bounded into the room after them.

"It's Oliver, Madame Pomfrey," Harry said hurriedly, tears forming in his eyes. Hermione levitated Oliver onto one of the available uncomfortable beds, "We bumped into him outside of Charms and he fainted. He said he hasn't been feeling too well today so I was going to bring him here anyway, but then he-"

"Harry…" Oliver groaned and slowly opened his eyes, "Baby, where are you?"

"I'm right here, Ollie," Harry grabbed Oliver's hand and sat in the small chair next to the hospital bed.

"Do you remember what happened, Mr Wood?" Madame Pomfrey asked as she propped Oliver up against several soft pillows.

"I don't know… All I can remember is talking to Harry, then feeling something twist inside me and I fell unconscious," Oliver said, his mouth suddenly dry, "Can I have some water?"

"I'll get it," Hermione said and walked over to the water fountain in the corner of the room, where she filled up a plastic cup and brought it back over to the parched Flying teacher.

"Thanks," Oliver nodded and drained the cup in one gulp, "Sorry, but, can I have another?"

"Erm… sure…" Hermione said unsurely and filled the cup up once again, only for it to be downed a second time.

"I think that'll do for now," said Oliver, and Hermione sighed in relief.

"It's difficult to say what could be wrong with you, Mr Wood," Madame Pomfrey said, "so I'll need to perform a few tests on you to make sure. But it could just be a simple matter of the flu. I had a fresh supply on Pepper Up Potion delivered today so if it _is_ the flu you should be back up in no time. The same goes for you, too, Mr Weasley," she added

"It doesn't feel like the flu, and I've had it plenty of times before," Oliver said.

"Then I guess tests are our only option right now," said Madame Pomfrey

"How long will the tests take?" Harry asked, "Only I was supposed to be meeting Oliver's grandmother tonight."

"They only take a matter of seconds to perform so you should be up and out of here in about five minutes," she said as she took out her wand and pulled a small jar out of her Healer's gown, "Hold still, please."

A small globe of white light illuminated the end of her wand as she ran the tip down the length of Oliver's arm, a thin red trail of what looked like mist clinging to the end when she took the wand away. She deposited the substance into the jar, where it solidified into something that was much easier to recognise; blood.

"There we go," Madame Pomfrey said finally, "I've taken a sample of your blood for testing. You should have your results back tomorrow."

"Thank you, Poppy," said Oliver, "Am I free to go?"

"Take this Pepper Up Potion just in case you start feeling a little woozy," said Madame Pomfrey and handed him a small phial of clear potion, which he drank.

"Shall we get going?" Harry asked as he helped Oliver pull himself up from the bed, "Or do you just want to rest?"

"Harry, I'm fine," Oliver placed his hands on Harry's shoulders and kissed him, "Honestly, baby, I couldn't be better. Come on, let's go."

"We'll meet you two back up at the common room later, Harry!" Hermione shouted as Harry and Oliver walked out of the hospital wing. Snuffles cantered along behind them, barking happily.

"Yeah, and I can congratulate you two properly!" Ron added even louder.

Harry, Oliver and Snuffles made their way down to Hogsmeade. It was a miserable winter's day outside. The sky was covered in a thick layer of cloud with not a ray of sunshine visible, and a blistering wind bit at every inch of skin it could find. Harry and Oliver, almost freezing with the chill, huddled together as they walked to try and keep their body heat at the normal level, yet the Crup seemed to be far too happy and was even jumping into any puddles it could find. They stopped under a shelter in the high street of the wizarding village.

"Ready?" Oliver asked, "I should warn you, my grandmother goes a little bit overboard on the hospitality…"

"I'm sure it won't be anything too bad," Harry laughed, "The worst it could be is that she'll never want me to leave."

"See for yourself…" Oliver wrapped his arm around Harry's and they Disapparated from under the shelter with a loud crack.

They Apparated in the middle of a long road that curved at the end, with a vast expanse of houses lining the paved street, healthy green hedges jutting out to the very edge of the path. In between the houses on one side of the road stood a church, a large square bell tower at one side of the run-down building which had chips in its stonework. A small library was placed next to the church, and a set of bungalows was next to that. Luckily, the road was empty so Harry and Oliver didn't need to worry about Muggles seeing Snuffles.

"The house is just here," Oliver pointed him in the direction of a small terraced house with a green wooden door and walked towards it, his arm still linked around Harry's. An alleyway separated the house from the one next door, and a shed waited for them at the end, where they were met by a wooden gate which was unlocked, "Come on in," he opened the gate and walked into the spacious back garden, which was half concrete and half greenery, yet still looked rather pretty when you glanced at the grassy area, where several bunches of colourful flowers blossomed and a water fountain trickled calmingly in a corner of the garden next to a tall bird cage in which two lone cockatiels chirped merrily, a stark contrast to the overcast weather which seemed to have followed Harry and Oliver from Hogwarts.

"Where are we?" Harry asked as he took in the sights around him, "Which part of the country are we in?"

"Middlesbrough," Oliver said, "My dad grew up here. Nana told me."

"Nana? Is that what you call your grandmother?" Harry gave an amused look.

"Yeah," Oliver admitted, "But that's nothing compared to what she calls-"

"My Little Captain!" a high-pitched squeal rang from the open back door of the house, "There you are! I've been waiting for you!"

A bespectacled, portly woman came bustling into the garden, a white dress with a pink floral pattern fluttering behind her. She had shoulder-length hair that showed signs of what could have been a bright copper in the past, but had now faded into a light, wispy orange, ending in ringlets as it reached her broad shoulders. Her brown eyes shone with the wisdom of her years and their sparkling reflected the sweat that was beaded on her forehead; she looked to be no younger than sixty, but no older than seventy, yet the way that she was sweating had all the hallmarks of a hard-working woman. She grabbed Oliver's arm and pulled him into a crushing hug.

"N-Nana…" he spluttered as he struggled to free himself from her grasp, "You know I don't like being called your Little Captain…"

"You haven't complained about it before," she said sternly, "Now, where's this future son-in-law of mine?"

"He's… r-right… th-there…" Oliver gasped and managed to tug himself away from his grandmother, but he pulled with too much force and fell backwards, much to Harry's immense amusement. He sniggered. That was, until Oliver's grandmother pulled him into a hug of his own. Harry felt as though his eyes were going to burst from his skull with the pressure of the hug, and he even thought that Apparating was a pleasant experience compared to this.

"Oh, sorry, darling," she pulled away from him once she saw that his face had turned a tint a blue, "Was I squashing you there?" she gave him an apologetic gaze.

"Just a little bit," Harry choked, "It's fine though, really, Mrs Wood."

"Please, call me Denise," she smiled, "Down, Bailey!"

A fluffy Shih Tzu kept on jumping up at her and barked boisterously. Snuffles didn't appear to particularly like Bailey; he stood with his teeth bared and growled at the Shih Tzu as it ran rings around Oliver's legs. But what surprised Harry was the fact that Snuffles had seemed perfectly content around Mrs Wood, a Muggle.

"Oliver?" Harry asked once Mrs Wood was out of earshot, "Aren't Crups supposed to be vicious towards Muggles?"

"Strangers, yeah," Oliver explained, "Crups are able to sense whether a Muggle is trusted by its owner or not. If the Muggle is trusted by the owner, the Crup will have no problem with them. That'll be why it hasn't snapped at Nana," they walked in through the back door where the pleasing scent of meat met them as they crossed the threshold into the kitchen, "It smells great in here! You always were a good cook, Nana."

"Thanks, Oliver," Mrs Wood smiled and scuttled over to the oven where she attended to several pots that contained a variety of meats and vegetables, but she seemed to be struggling to lift the heavy pans.

"Here, let me help you," Oliver took out his wand and walked over to the oven, "You go and sit in the living room and I'll sort the vegetables out. You can even talk to Harry while I'm busy. Get to know him better."

"Oliver, no, let me do it. You know I don't like it when you fuss over-"

"Living room. Now," Oliver demanded and pointed his wand at his grandmother, a playful smirk spreading across his face, "Before I make you. Go on," he gestured his wand in the direction of the living room. She huffed and stalked away into the living room, with Bailey the Shih Tzu following closely behind and barking even more than before, "I always do that to her," Oliver chuckled to Harry.

"Oliver, can you come and do something about Bailey?! I'm sick of his barking!" Mrs Wood was growing more irritated by the second as the dog continued to bark in a pitch so high that Harry was sure his eardrums were about to be perforated, "Bailey, shut up!"

"It's alright, I'll get it," Harry smiled, "_Silencio!_"

Bailey fell silent; his mouth moved yet not a single sound came from him. He eventually realised that barking wasn't doing him any favours so he simply kept his mouth shut after that.

"Oh, thank you, Harry," Mrs Wood smiled and wiped the sweat from her forehead with a tissue from a box next to her, "I'm so tired of him barking."

"It's not a problem, Mrs- er… Denise," Harry said anxiously.

"You look worried," Mrs Wood placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, "Don't be. I know all about you; Oliver never used to shut up about you when he came from Hogwarts after his fifth year. He really thought the world of you."

"He still does," Harry smiled, "And I think the world of him. I honestly don't think I could have picked a better man to fall in love with."

"Aww, that's so sweet," Mrs Wood grinned, "You've picked a good one here, Oliver!" she shouted into the kitchen.

"I know I have, Nana," Oliver shouted back, "That's why we're engaged. Show her the ring, Harry."

Harry slipped the ring off of his finger and handed it to Mrs Wood, who took it and sat gazing with misty eyes at it, before handing it back to Harry.

"That ring is beautiful," she said, "I've always known that my Little Captain was a romantic."

"He most certainly is," said Harry, "He holds me when we're going to sleep at night."

"I hope you're not destroying my reputation in there!" Oliver shouted jokily. There was a sizzling, followed by a pop and then, "Ow! Shit!"

"Language, Oliver!" Mrs Wood called warningly, "What did you do?"

"Bloody pan spat at me," Oliver said agitatedly, "Literally. I slipped my with wand and I accidentally Charmed it so it started spitting at me. I've got it sorted now. That's a surprise," he said suddenly, "It should have had at least half an hour left. No wonder it started spitting at me; the dinner's finished!"

"Come on. We'll talk more over dinner," Mrs Wood said to Harry and walked into the kitchen where she sat down at the table. Harry walked over to Oliver in order to help set out the plates. With a wave of his hand, several plates floated out of the cupboard that ran along the wall and landed on the table with a slight tap. Shortly to follow were the pots and pans that landed next to the plates, a large boat of gravy edging slowly out of the air in an attempt to keep itself from tipping over, which it succeeded in doing when it placed itself in front of Mrs Wood, "Oliver hasn't quite made it clear," she said as she put vegetables, potatoes and beef onto her plate, "How exactly was it that you two met up again?"

"I was in The Three Broomsticks, that's the wizarding pub in the village Hogsmeade, with my two friends Ron and Hermione," Mrs Wood shuffled slightly in her seat, "And then Oliver came walking in and told us about how he quit Puddlemere United because of all the arguments and then how he became the Quidditch coach for Gryffindor at Hogwarts. I'd liked Oliver for a while back then so I found it a little difficult to talk to him properly, that was until we had our first coaching session. He fell off his broom during practice and it killed me to think that that could have been where he died, but something happened and I caught him, and I suppose that that's where it all started really. He took me out on a date and something clicked, so it progressed from there. And now, well, we're engaged and we couldn't be happier!"

"Yes, your friend, Hermione, has been owling me…" she said as she scooped some food into her mouth.

"We know," Oliver gave a half laugh, "We worked it out when you said 'my friend' in that letter this morning. She's the most meddlesome person we know."

"Oh, come now, she only means the best for you," Mrs Wood scolded, "Besides, I'm helping her plan the Bonding ceremony. I got an owl from her not too long after breakfast this morning, but I'm not telling you what she said in it. It'll ruin the surprise."

"Nana, we don't want a huge ceremony. All we want is a nice little gathering where we can get Bonded and then go on our honeymoon together. Really, there's no need to spend a ridiculous amount on something that will only last two hours at most."

"I don't want to hear it," Mrs Wood flatly, "I don't care what you say, I'm giving my grandson and his wonderful fiancé the Bonding that they deserve. So, Harry," she changed the subject before Oliver could contest the idea, "What do you plan on doing once you leave Hogwarts?"

"I want to be an auror, that's the wizarding equivalent of a SWAT team member," Harry said, "Failing that, I'd love to be the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. It's always been one of my best subjects, but this year it's been really boring. Actually, it hasn't even been worth talking about. All we do is sit and read a theory book, but I'm not complaining; it's just a free period for me, really."

Oliver gave him a knowing glance; Harry was getting all the Defence Against the Dark Arts he could ever need what with him fighting the Nocturnimagi with Oliver.

"Well, I'm glad you've got your future set out for you, Harry," Mrs Wood smiled as she ate a mouthful of beef, "I don't know what Oliver plans on doing with his life anymore."

"I've been thinking about going into teaching, myself," said Oliver, spooning vegetables into his mouth, "But after the little bit of trouble that me and Harry have found ourselves in lately, I'm thinking about being an auror, too."

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" Mrs Wood asked concernedly.

"It's nothing important. Just a little bit of a crime spree at Hogwarts," Harry lied, "You know, students attacking each other in the corridors, things being stolen. We've sorted it all out, though," he added at the concerned expression on Mrs Wood's face.

"That's good to hear," Mrs Wood said, "Now, Hermione told me that you were going to be having the Bonding as soon as possible. Are you sure that you want to rush into this? You've only been going out since sept-"

"Nana, we know what we're doing," Oliver said, frustrated, "We're crazy about each other and we want to make that special bond even more special. Bonding is the way to do it."

"Alright, alright," Mrs Wood held her arms up in an offended manner, "I was just making sure that what you're doing is the right thing."

"Don't worry, it is," Oliver smiled, "I love this man way too much to let him go," he gave Harry a peck on the cheek.

"That's so lovely to see," Mrs Wood beamed at them and let her knife and fork drop to her plate, "That dinner was lovely, Oliver."

"You cooked it," Oliver laughed as he and Harry also finished their meals, "I just had an unlucky accident with my wand."

"Here, let me get the washing up," Mrs Wood went to pick up the plates but Oliver had already swept his hand in the direction of the sink. The plates, pots, pans and the boat of gravy floated through the air and landed in the basin, where the taps were already filling it with warm water. With another wave of his hand, Oliver set the sponge to work cleaning all the dishes.

"Nobody's doing the dishes while I'm here," Oliver said matter-of-factly and walked into the living room, where he sat down on a long red leather sofa, Harry following and sitting next to him. It was growing dark outside and two hours had already passed.

"Oh, and what's this darling little thing?" Mrs Wood smiled at Snuffles as she sat down on a chair at the end of the room and started to scratch him behind his ear, "Wow, two tails! I'm surprised you were allowed to bring this out here…"

"Well, technically, we weren't supposed to take him out in public until he's five weeks old," said Oliver, "Then we need to use a painless Severing Charm to remove the second tail in case non-magical people see him."

"What is it?" Mrs Wood said inquiringly.

"It was an early Christmas present from me to Harry," said Oliver, "It's called a Crup and it doesn't take well to non-magical people unless they're trusted by its owner, and it can sense trust. I guess it likes you, Nana."

"That's nice to know," Mrs Wood said as Snuffles crawled onto his back to let her stroke his belly, "So what did you call it?"

"Snuffles," Harry replied, "After my godfather."

"It seems like a rather strange name for a person," Mrs Wood remarked.

"It's my nickname for him. I call him 'Padfoot', too," Harry explained, "It's a long story," he added when Mrs Wood gave him a confused glance.

"Oh, OK," she said, "Let's see what's on TV, shall we?"

A large flatscreen TV flicked on in the corner of the room as she picked up the remote and changed the channel, its light emanating a comforting glow around the room and illuminating a second single chair. Great, looming shadows were cast over the peach-and-white walls of the living room as the darkness outside became more apparent. For several minutes Mrs Wood sat flicking through the channels to find something to watch. She eventually settled on a romance film about a couple that meet on a doomed ship and fall in love.

As the film started, Oliver laid down across the sofa and held Harry close to him, wrapping his arms around his chest and resting his chin on Harry's head. Mrs Wood glanced at them admiringly, clearly touched by the heart-warming scene in front of her, rather than what was on the TV. She secretly picked up a tissue from the box next to her and wiped her eyes. The time passed quickly, and Harry had grown incredibly comfortable in Oliver's arms; he didn't want to move. The love scene in the car warmed Harry's heart and it must have done something to Oliver because Harry could feel himself being held tighter into Oliver's chest.

"I love you," Oliver whispered in his ear.

"I love you too, baby," Harry whispered back and kissed him, not even caring the Mrs Wood was nearby.

They held each other tighter, and as the climax of the film unfolded they could hear Mrs Wood sobbing and tearing tissues out every five minutes, but Harry couldn't exactly complain about it; he was crying, himself, and tears streamed down his face. Oliver was crying too because Harry could hear tiny sobs escaping from his mouth. The end of the film came, and the two protagonists were in the ocean, the woman on the door and the man in the freezing water. Minutes passed by and the woman promised to never let go of man, but when she realised, as the film came to its final scene, that he was dead she let him plunge into the ocean's ice depths, at which point Harry and Oliver could no longer contain themselves and allowed the sobs to flow from their mouths. Their crying was exacerbated further when the final scene showed the woman, now elderly, throwing the Heart of the Ocean overboard and falling asleep, only to be reunited with the man in the afterlife.

The film ended and the time was getting on. Harry and Oliver needed to be back at Hogwarts as early as they could tomorrow so that Harry wouldn't miss any lessons, and also so Oliver would be able to resume teaching the first years how to fly.

"I'm going up to bed," Mrs Wood said eventually with a loud yawn and turned the TV off, "There's a spare room upstairs with another bed for you, Harry; Oliver's is only a single."

Harry and Oliver glanced at each other.

"I think Oliver's single bed will do me fine, Denise," Harry said, "Thanks, though."

She gave them a hard stare, "I know what you're thinking. No funny business under my roof, thank you very much. Oliver, I didn't allow your parents to do it and I'm not going to let you, either," she turned on her heel and left the room, her heavy footsteps thudding through the walls as she ascended the stairs and crossed the landing to her bedroom.

"She won't know what we're doing," Oliver smirked, "I can put an Imperturbable Charm on the door."

Harry smirked, grabbed Oliver's hand, jumped off the couch and pulled him up the stairs, chuckling when he realised that Oliver wasn't even struggling against him. Snuffles had been left downstairs in the living room with Bailey, but over the past couple of hours he appeared to grown accustomed to the silenced Shih Tzu so there really was no danger there. Together, they crept across the landing into Oliver's bedroom, which appeared to be the smallest room in the house by far, but Harry had no problem with the intense feeling of intimacy and cosiness that he loved sharing with Oliver. The single bed in the corner of the room looked incredibly inviting, and as soon as the door was closed Oliver put an Imperturbable Charm in place with three harsh taps with the palm of his hand.

"Why did you use your wand when we first got here earlier?" Harry asked politely.

"I don't know," Oliver replied, "Force of habit, I guess. I think I'm still trying to get used to the whole freehand thing. But I think I'm getting the hang of the whole elemental side of things," he snapped his fingers and emitted a small flame from the tip of his thumb, which he extinguished with a sizzle by pouring water out of one of his other fingers onto the digit, "Now, how about we have some fun?"

Harry walked up to Oliver and placed his hands on the side of his cheeks, causing Oliver to sigh in a way that told Harry that the older boy was already starting to become aroused. Harry could relate; his trousers were already starting to grow tight around his crotch. They gently pushed their lips together as they succumbed to their desires, unconsciously walking over to Oliver's bed where they settled on the soft sheets, their tongues starting to probe at each other's mouth as they became lost in the wondrous feelings that they always had from kissing. Their hearts fluttering in unison, they lost their clothes; first were their shoes and socks, then their trousers, followed by their shirts and, finally, their pants. Their cocks were both hard in a matter of seconds, and their kissing began to grow more feverish as they laid down together, albeit a little bit squashed, on the bed. Harry stroked down Oliver's bare, muscular back and in between his firm arse cheeks, gently tracing small circles around the older boy's hole, causing him to hiss pleasurably as the sensations struck his body.

"I love you," they whispered to each other as Harry took his hand away from Oliver's butt and grasped the bases of their shafts, the tips leaking vast amounts of precum and Harry grazed his hand up their throbbing cocks, used two fingers to lightly stimulate their slits and mix the clear fluid together, and then brought his hand back down, applying a little more pressure as he went, repeating the process over and over as they continued to kiss.

Oliver grunted, but it wasn't of pleasure. He grunted again, and this time cried out as a searing pain shot across his gut. It felt like something was trying to tear its way out of his abdomen, and it was the most pain that Oliver had ever experienced, far surpassing that of the Cruciatus Curse which he'd had the misfortune to encounter when Draco Malfoy attacked he and Harry in the entrance hall that night after their date in Forbidden Forest.

"Harry, help me! Please! Call a-" but before he could get the words out of his mouth he fainted once again.

"Ollie, baby! Not again! Come on, Ollie, wake up!" Harry threw his clothes on as fast as he could and made every attempt possible to cover Oliver's body. He held Oliver close to him and Disapparated from the room with a loud crack. Mrs Wood would have to look after Snuffles until Harry found out what was wrong with Oliver. The thought of Oliver having a life-threatening illness was devastating to Harry; if he lost Oliver he would no longer have meaning in life, he thought. Nobody in the world could compare to Oliver, of this Harry was certain.

Not even caring about the wizards that had been startled when he Apparated in the middle of the high street at Hogsmeade, Harry soared off the ground with Oliver still in his arms and bulleted straight for the castle, knowing exactly where he was going to go; the hospital wing. He crashed through the doors of Hogwarts and, not even bothering to walk, he continued to fly straight up through the centre of cathedral-like chamber where the Grand Staircase stood, passing each of the stone steps as he ascended towards the fourth floor, where he land and immediately started running, Oliver still unconscious in his arms. Rivulets of white hot tears were pouring down his cheeks as he gazed at Oliver's pallid face.

"Come on, baby, don't be-" he burst through the doors on hospital wing, once again alerting Madame Pomfrey.

"What happened?!" she cried when Harry placed Oliver gently down onto one of the available hospital beds.

"He felt a lot of pain in his stomach while we were in bed and then he passed out!" Harry sobbed, "Madame Pomfrey, we need the test results back now!"

"I'm sorry, Mr Potter, but I'm afraid-"

"Here are the test results for Mr Wood, Madame Pomfrey," an apprentice Healer, one of the many at Hogwarts, walked up to Madame Pomfrey and handed her the test results.

"That was fast! Thank you," she said and took the piece of parchment with the results on. She stood for a while, her eyes skimming over them.

"H-Harry…" Oliver croaked, "Where's my Little Snitch?"

"Ollie! Oh, baby, I'm right here!" Harry cried and pulled Oliver into a crushing hug, "I thought I'd lost you," he peppered Oliver's face with kisses.

"W-Water…"

"Open up," Harry said and stroked a hand through Oliver's brown locks.

Oliver opened his mouth and Harry placed two fingers on his bottom lip. A thin stream of water trickled from Harry's fingertips which Oliver drank gratefully.

"Thanks, Snitchy," Oliver pulled Harry down so that their lips met in a gentle kiss, "So what are the results, Poppy?"

Madame Pomfrey stood staring at the piece of parchment that was in her hands, as if in shock. She blinked her eyes rapidly. Surely what she was seeing on the parchment couldn't be true.

"I-I've never seen anything like it…" she stated in sheer astonishment.

"What is it?" Harry asked worriedly, "Is it bad?"

"I'm not sure how to tell you this but…"

"Poppy, please tell us," Oliver said, also highly concerned.

"Mr Wood… You're pregnant…"


	28. Final Assault

**Chapter Twenty Eight – Final Assault**

So many thoughts swam through Harry and Oliver's heads. Oliver was pregnant, of that much they were certain; it explained why Oliver had been having excruciating pain in his stomach, although it _didn't_ explain why the pain was so bad, or why he was passing out. After sitting in intense silence for what felt like aeons Harry finally found the ability to speak.

"Pregnant? Are you sure, Madame Pomfrey?" he asked, still in a state of pure disbelief, "I mean, how can he pregnant? Only women can give birth… can't they?"

"There are ways…" Madame Pomfrey said slowly, "The most common one is if a man takes a Pregnancy Potion. Although intended for women who struggled to become pregnant, they can also be used by same-sex couples, particularly male, in order to induce pregnancy. When it was first introduced it was originally meant to act as a remedy for infertile witches, but there was an incident where a drop of it was put into a wizard's breakfast by his angry wife, who wanted to poison him due to his unfaithfulness with another man. But what she never considered was that her transgression would lead to her husband becoming pregnant by his partner. When this case was first brought to light, the Ministry withdrew the potion from the market and banned it, while the woman was sent to Azkaban for the misuse of magic. But about thirty years ago the ban was lifted because there was a sudden surge in the amount of same-sex couples that wanted children, and the Ministry received threats from not just homosexual couples but heterosexuals as well, so they were obliged. I was one of the heterosexuals that threatened the Ministry. I even went on strike at St Mungo's along with many other Healers until the ban was lifted."

"I haven't taken a pregnancy potion, though," Oliver said confusedly.

"Are you sure of that?" Madame Pomfrey said, giving Harry accusing glance.

"Excuse me," Harry said indignantly, "Are you suggesting that I slipped Pregnancy Potion into his food or something?"

"I'm simply trying to work out what has happened," Madame Pomfrey said, affronted, "Although there _is_ one other way that could have caused Mr Wood here to become pregnant…"

"What is it?" Oliver asked.

"It seems a little far-fetched, but Merlin knows from what I've seen between you two it could be entirely possible…" Madame Pomfrey muttered, "When you two have been… 'intimate'… have you used protection?"

"No…" Harry and Oliver shifted uncomfortably in their places, "Why?"

"There have been rumours of cases like this in the past…" Madame Pomfrey began, "Rumours where a potion has not been needed for male same-sex couples to become pregnant naturally, meaning that either partner can conceive in the same biological manner as a woman, although impregnation this way is usually through the partner's," she cleared her throat awkwardly, "anus. But it requires both partners to be purely in love with the other, and some form of special bond must be created in order to ensure that the child can live within the man's body. You see, the rumours had it that the connection created a viable womb-like sac inside the pregnant partner's stomach, made of pure magic. The sac was said to be able to protect the baby, or babies, from any type of harm, so miscarriages were extremely rare. According to the rumours, the first day or so after conception involves the pregnant partner experiencing intense pain in his abdomen as the sac establishes itself. The pain gradually subsides in the following days and, a week later, the baby begins to develop."

"And you think that that might be what's happened with me?" Oliver asked, "You think I've managed to get pregnant because of a special bond between me and Harry?"

Harry gave him a knowing glance. They both knew that the bond that Madame Pomfrey was talking about, whether she knew it or not, was Vinculum Duo.

"It wouldn't surprise me if this were the case," Madame Pomfrey said flatly, "From what I've seen between you two, the ability for either of you to become pregnant by the other isn't as unrealistic as one would first think. There was an ancient form of magic that has been said to create an unbreakable link between two people, and it certainly seems quite reasonable that its effects have taken hold here."

"What do we do while I'm pregnant, then?" Oliver asked bemusedly.

"Just do what any pregnant woman does – don't fly, take your time walking down steps, that kind of thing," Madame Pomfrey said and stood up, ready to head back to her office. It was midnight and Harry and Oliver were growing tired, but there was still one question that kept on ringing in their minds, a question that baffled them completely.

"How am I supposed to give birth to our child?" Oliver said, "It's not as though I have a vagina for it to pop out of."

"The rumours say that the sac not only provides complete protection for the baby, but it also creates a birth canal when it is time to give birth," Madame Pomfrey explained.

"A birth canal?!" Harry said slightly louder than he originally intended to, "Where?" he started to look at the different locations on Oliver's body where a birth canal could appear including his stomach, his back, the back of his knee and even made an attempt to check in between his legs, but Oliver laughed and pushed Harry's head away.

"Apparently, the most common place for the birth canal to appear is the belly button," Madame Pomfrey began, "The naval expands, painlessly as I've been told, and the sac pushes the baby out. When the baby has been born, the belly button returns to normal and the sac disappears. From what the rumours have said, the whole process of male labour is considerably more pleasant than labour for a female. One of the reasons that has been proposed for this is that the use of magic to create the sac means that it is not directly connected to the pregnant man and, as such, does not inflict any pain when the contractions start, although he might feel a slight knotting in his stomach as the sac starts to squeeze and the birth canal opens, but he shouldn't feel any pain. This should be the case with you, Mr Wood."

"So I shouldn't feel any pain more than what I've already had?" Oliver asked.

"Correct," Madame Pomfrey said as she picked up a few dirty plates and cups from the tables next to beds where a few students were sleeping, "And I daresay that since the sac will not be fully connected to your body you shouldn't experience any morning sickness, either. But the next few days are going to be rather uncomfortable as the sac establishes itself, I'm afraid. You may pass out at times so I think that the best thing for you to do would be to relax and take time off. I'm sure Professor McGonagall will allow it. For now you may go but before you do I have a few phials of Pepper Up Potion for you to take should you feel particularly unwell."

"Thank you, Poppy," Oliver said and climbed off the creaky hospital bed, taking the phials of potion that Madame Pomfrey had just handed him, "Come on, Harry, let's get off to bed," he grabbed Harry's hand and dragged him out of the hospital wing, making their way through the corridors as they headed up to Gryffindor Tower, "You'd think there was a war going on," Oliver whispered to Harry as they sneaked past a teacher that was patrolling one of the dark corridors, the only light being that of the torches that stood in their brackets along the wall.

"Well what do you expect? They'll be on the lookout for Swampstead if McGonagall has told them about what happened in Diagon Alley," Harry whispered as he rapped Oliver over the head so as to make him invisible. He did the same thing to himself, which caused a sensation as though something was trickling down his back, like someone had smashed a raw egg over his head. They crept forward as quietly as they could, careful not to draw attention to themselves. Once they were safely past the teacher and had turned onto the next corridor, they set off at a run, intent on avoiding any other teachers. If Harry and Oliver saw one now, the teacher would probably think that they were hearing things because the sound of running footsteps would be have already gone. Luckily, there were no other teachers in sight, either because the security was focussed mainly towards the entrance to the castle, or because the teachers had all went off to bed by now.

They crawled in through the portrait of the Fat Lady. The common room was completely deserted, apart from a few fifth-year students who were sleeping with her heads on the table after what looked like a hard night's homework; moon charts and diagrams of strange symbols (runes, Harry thought) were scattered across the table. Being careful not to wake any of them, Harry and Oliver crept up the stairs and into Harry's bedroom, where the door shut with a dull click. Harry turned to face Oliver, whose cheeks were streaked with tears.

"Ollie, what's wrong?" Harry asked with a voice full of concern and pulled him into a hug.

"It's just that I want to have this baby," Oliver sobbed, "But you're so young. You can't possibly want a baby just yet…"

"Ollie, look at me," Harry said sternly and lifted Oliver's head away from his shoulder, "You're having that baby. Just because I'm young it doesn't mean that I don't want a child. Look at us; I'm seventeen and you're twenty-one but we're still getting Bonded. Oh, Ollie…" Harry stroked a finger down Oliver's soaked cheek, gazing into his glistening hazel eyes, "I want a baby with you," he placed a hand on Oliver's stomach, "and now we've got one on the way."

Oliver rested his forehead against Harry's, "You really are amazing, Harry," he whispered, "I love you so much," they pressed their lips together in a sweet kiss.

"I love you too, Ollie," Harry uttered back, "Let's celebrate…"

A flourish of his hand sent his and Oliver's clothing flying to the floor. Fast as lightning, they embraced into a kiss that flared with so much passion that Harry almost lost control of his abilities, a rarity for him since he mastered his powers; the wardrobe at the edge of the room rattled in its place. Something inside Harry clicked, and he found himself with a sudden hunger for Oliver such that he wasted no time in getting down to business.

"Hungry are we, Harry?" Oliver chuckled as Harry pushed him onto the bed and separated his legs, "Ohhhhhh!"

Harry's tongue traced up the underside of Oliver's growing cock. It was eventually engulfed in its entirety when Harry closed his mouth around the tip and started bobbing up and down on the inflating length. He didn't care how far the piece of flesh went in, he just wanted to taste as much of Oliver as he could. He fought his gag reflex valiantly and triumphed when he felt the head of Oliver's cock slide into his throat. Oliver groaned loudly as Harry started humming and sent small vibrations surging through his swollen length.

"Ohhhhh… yeah, baby, keep doing that… make me come…"

Harry started stroking vigorously at his own engorged cock, precum beading at the end as the sensations rippled around his body. The moans that escaped his mouth meant that he no longer needed to try and please Oliver; his body was already doing it for him. He pulled away from Oliver's cock with an audible pop and laid on top of the older boy, aligning their crotches perfectly so that Oliver's wet flesh was touching Harry's dry one.

"I don't want to risk poking the sac," Harry said seriously, but Oliver laughed loudly.

"You're already looking out for the baby and it hasn't even started developing yet," Oliver chuckled, "I can tell that you'll be a great daddy. And I'm going to be the doting mother!" he continued to laugh hard, Harry joining in, until his stomach started to feel tight from the extensiveness of the laughter. Once they had both finished, Harry reclaimed Oliver's lips in a gentle kiss. With Oliver's legs wrapped around his waist, Harry had the leverage he needed in order to rock back and forth so that their cocks grinded together and sent subtle waves of pleasure coursing through their bodies. They moaned into each other's mouths as the sensations grew more intense with each thrust of Harry's hips, Oliver performing a similar action so that they could come together. In a matter of minutes they were both groaning loudly and hungrily, rivulets of sweat erupting onto their foreheads and streaming down their faces. Eventually, their bodies surrendered, and, continuing to cry out, they came. Splashes of seedy cum burst forth from their swollen cocks and splattered all the way up their abs and pecs. With a final shudder, and a sudden jerking movement, Harry collapsed on top of Oliver, the both of them breathing heavily but rhythmically. They lay there for several minutes as they descended from their euphoria.

"I always feel safe when I'm with you, Ollie," Harry said and snuggled into Oliver's chest, "And this little treasure is going to have a wonderful mother," he added, patting Oliver's stomach.

Without anything to say, Oliver gave Harry a final, goodnight kiss. Exhausted, they were both fast asleep within minutes, Harry snoozing comfortably on top of his now-pregnant fiancé. If there was one thing that Harry and Oliver both wanted to make sure was definitely kept a secret, it was the fact that Oliver was pregnant. Whilst they knew that Ron and Hermione could be told in the highest confidence that they would keep it a secret, they could not guarantee that people around them would not hear the conversation, not to mention the fact that Rita Skeeter had managed to successfully out Harry and Oliver, and make their relationship public, within the space of a week, even if some of the wizarding population didn't believe the stories she published; Skeeter's uncanny ability to scoop stories from the most private of places meant that it would be incredibly difficult to find a spot where Harry and Oliver could deliver the news away from possible sources of information for her.

Dawn came faster than Harry would have liked; he would have much preferred to stay in bed all day and simply snuggle with his fiancé instead of going to lessons, but Oliver was having none of it and he was determined to get back to work, intent of making everything seem as normal as possible. He and Harry had had a discussion that morning about delivering the news to Ron and Hermione before they went down to breakfast.

"When do you think will be the best time to tell them?" Oliver asked Harry.

"I'm not too sure," said Harry, "Ron's busy catching up on all the work he missed while he was ill, and I don't think Hermione will be able to handle the stress of knowing that you're pregnant just quite yet; she's planning our Bonding with your grandmother, remember."

"You're right," Oliver admitted, "I wish they wouldn't, though. All we want is a nice small ceremony where we can get Bonded without making it a huge fiasco and they know that."

"I know, but there's nothing really that we can do," Harry said, "Once Hermione sets her mind on something, there's no stopping her."

They walked down to breakfast, happier than they could have ever imagined as it finally began to sink in that Oliver was carrying Harry's child. Their ecstasy must have been quite visible on their faces, too, because as they sauntered into the Great Hall many turned their heads once they noticed that both of them seemed to radiating positivity, but quite a lot of them saw good reason as to why; it was the start of December now Christmas would be here soon. None of them seemed to find it suspicious, however, that Harry kept on glancing at Oliver's stomach once they had sat down next to Ron and Hermione. It was only when Oliver realised that Hermione was watching Harry stare at his abdomen that he nudged his fiancé in the side and muttered, "You're drawing attention to yourself," before resuming his breakfast of scrambled egg and toast.

Harry knew that once Hermione had seen something suspicious she wouldn't let go of it, and he was worried about the inevitable stream of questions that was heading for he and Oliver, which would, undoubtedly, end up in both of them spilling the news to the inquisitive brain box. They wouldn't have been worried about telling her if she hadn't already been under the stress of planning the Bonding ceremony, which they were growing anxious about due to the massive transformation that Hermione's hair appeared to have undergone; it was even bushier than usual and struck out at odd angles. There had been several occasions where Ron had had to swerve out of the way of her gargantuan mass of hair if she reached down under the table to take something out of her bag, and it was becoming more frequent as Snuffles continued to be as boisterous as ever, distracting her from her breakfast or whatever else it was she was doing just so that he could get an extra pet. Towards the end of breakfast Hermione took Harry and Oliver aside.

"I need to talk to the both of you for a minute," she said and took them into an empty classroom upstairs. She made sure that the door was firmly shut before she started talking but, as she began to speak, she caught something out of the corner of her eye; a shining blue beetle gleamed on the wall nearest the corner, an acid green quill clutched in its pincers, "It's her!" Hermione shouted, "It's Rita Skeeter! I recognise that Animagus form anywhere!" realising that it had been caught out, the beetle flew from the wall, but Hermione was quick to react and threw one of the erasers from the blackboard in its direction. It impacted dead centre and sent the beetle hurtling towards the wall, where it crunched and fell to the floor, leaving a streak of blue blood on the stone surface. Hermione walked up to it and aimed her wand at the squirming creature, "_Homenum Revelio!_" a loud pop resounded in the air, and the human form of Rita Skeeter came into full view, glasses askew and nose bloodied, the Quick Quotes Quill still clutched in her hand.

"You little bitch!," she snarled and raised her wand at Hermione, "How _dare-_"

"_Expelliarmus!_" Hermione cried. Rita Skeeter's wand soared from her hand and flew out through the open window, "_Petrificus Totalus!_ You're not going anywhere," she chuckled as the journalist froze in her place, dropping the acid green quill onto the cold stone floor. Hermione picked it up and threw that out of the window as well, "And then once I've had a chat with Harry and Oliver, I'm going to perform a Memory Charm on you so that you forget everything that was said and done," Skeeter simply sat there, the only part of her that moved being her eyes that were wide with shock, "Right then," Hermione sighed and walked back over to Harry and Oliver, who had both decided that it would be best to act like they hadn't saw anything, "Can either of you tell me what the hell was going on at breakfast? Harry, why did you keep on looking at Oliver's stomach? It's not as though a baby's going to suddenly pop out of his belly button," Harry and Oliver both sniggered, much to Hermione's mixed dismay and confusion, "Honestly, you two, grow up," she scolded, "You're acting like babies," the other two started to laugh a little bit louder, but even though they knew that it wasn't the wisest thing to tell Hermione just yet they couldn't help but laugh at her, albeit unwitting, jokes, "What's so funny?! I only called you bab- oh… Oh!... Oh my! One of you is pregnant, aren't you?" Harry and Oliver, crying with laughter, nodded slowly, "What?! But how?! Which one of you?!"

"O-Oliver…" Harry panted and pointed at Oliver, "It's a long story…"

"I'll have all the time you need after lessons today," Hermione said hurriedly. Although she was confused about Oliver's pregnancy, completely baffled in fact, she still couldn't contain just how overjoyed she was to learn that Harry and Oliver were to become parents, "This is great news! Oliver, you're going to be a mummy! And, Harry, you're going to be a daddy!" her squealing carried on for the next five minutes, even through the bell to signal the start of lessons. Harry and Oliver became worried that the classroom they were in would start filling with students soon, so they made haste in hushing Hermione. Once she had calmed down, Hermione walked over to the still-frozen form of Rita Skeeter, where she proceeded to unfreeze her and, before the journalist could express her outrage, wiped her memory clean, "I can safely say that your secret's safe with me, you two," she said as she kicked Skeeter out of the door, "She won't be able to remember how to take up her Animagus form so she shouldn't be able to get any stories on you without you seeing her," the corridor outside was beginning to fill with students as they headed towards their lessons, Skeeter being caught up in the stampede and drawn away from the scene, her mind completely blank and her eyes rolling around in their sockets, but Harry, Hermione and Oliver didn't care; if she got caught in the school she'd be thrown out faster than you could say 'slander'. It appeared as though nobody was coming into the classroom so Harry and the others slipped out into the corridor and joined the flood of students.

"I'm going to send my grandmother an owl when I have a free period telling her why we left so suddenly during the night. I wonder how she'll react when I tell her I'm pregnant… Anyway, I'll see you tonight, baby," Oliver gave Harry a kiss and walked down the corridor, heading for what looked like a tortuous hour on teaching the first years more advanced tips when flying.

Harry and Hermione headed off to their first lesson of the day, Transfiguration, which passed surprisingly quickly considering it was a theory lesson, rather than practical. The same could be said for the rest of the day. Even Potions, which had grown to become Harry's favourite subject, had lost its usual interest; the practicality of the lesson had been lost when Snape announced that there would be a theory test the week back after the holidays, which meant that Harry would need to make sure that he was up-to-date on his knowledge if he was as determined to become an auror as he actually thought. At the end of a hard day's work, Harry trudged up to the Gryffindor common where he was determined to get a bit of relaxation before having a heart dinner and getting a good night's sleep. His night wasn't so bad when he remembered that he would get to see Oliver, and they both spent a considerable amount of time sat in a corner of the Gryffindor common room after dinner kissing and snuggling into each other. Harry was thankful that nobody in the room seemed to care about their activities; they were only a couple showing their love for each other, after all. He and Oliver had agreed that Hermione could deliver the news about Oliver's pregnancy to Ron, but she warned them that he might not take it as well as she did. Sadly, Oliver wasn't able to spend that night with Harry due to his need to prepare remedial Flying lessons for a struggling Hufflepuff student and, with a final kiss at nine o'clock, he left the Gryffindor common room to head to his own living quarters. Hermione had been wrong about Ron's reaction and he seemed rather excited to know that Oliver was pregnant, maybe even more so than Hermione herself. He kept on asking the lucky couple what names they were planning on giving the baby when it arrived, but neither of them had even thought about that kind of thing yet.

To Harry's annoyance the lessons in the run up to Christmas seemed to grow more boring as the holidays grew closer; he hadn't had this problem in all his previous years at Hogwarts; lessons had always tended to become more relaxed towards the holidays but it must have been the stress of their imminent NEWT exams that made the teachers work them harder than ever before. The lessons seemed to focus more on theory than anything else, and it appeared that even Hermione was looking for a way to make them seem more interesting; during Charms she and Harry made two quills engage in a sword fight under the desk and in Potions Harry and Ron jinxed each other into fits of laughter so bad that Snape had to send them up to the hospital wing to get the effects reversed. By the time their giggles had subsided the Potions lesson was over.

Harry couldn't help but feel sorry for Oliver as the week progressed following the revelation that he was pregnant; like Madame Pomfrey correctly predicted, Oliver was getting cramps in his stomach and had occasionally blacked out for a couple of minutes at times. It was only when Harry told him for the tenth time to take a break from work that he actually decided to listen and went to see Professor McGonagall, who agreed whole-heartedly with Madame Pomfrey's suggestion. What struck Oliver as odd was the fact that Professor McGonagall seemed to be unfazed by the fact that he was pregnant; maybe she already knows about this sort of stuff, he thought to himself as he left her office after their conversation. The same could not be said for his grandmother, however, who had replied to him the same night after he had told her of his pregnancy. Whilst the letter was filled with overjoyed ramblings from Mrs Wood, Oliver couldn't help but feel awkward at the questions being posed by her; How did you manage to get pregnant? Have you been doing things with your bum? If so, what were they? He made every effort to keep the letter from Harry, purely to save himself the embarrassment, but Harry eventually managed to wrestle the letter out of his grasp. Once he had finished reading it, he collapsed into fits of giggles; it was hilarious how Oliver's grandmother knew nothing about the anatomy of anal sex.

As the days progressed into mid-December Harry and Oliver started to grow concerned for Hermione's well-being; her hair was now so frizzy and worn that it could have easily been confused for a thorn bush. Her demeanour became somewhat unpredictable as she and Mrs Wood planned the Bonding ceremony, which continued to be a source of irritation for Harry and Oliver because they kept on having to repeat the same thing to her over and over again, "We just want a simple ceremony," they sighed exasperation for the umpteenth time on a particularly wet winter's day. An overcast sky and a bitterly cold wind forced the students inside the castle, which wasn't a great improvement but still granted them a source of comfort and warmth in the form of their common rooms. Hermione was not one to be trifled with on that day, or any day following, as Harry and Oliver soon found out when they kept pestering her to let them plan the Bonding.

"IF I'M NOT LEFT IN PEACE AND QUIET SOON I'LL HEX YOU BOTH SO BAD THAT YOU'LL LOOK LIKE AN ADVERT FOR SPOT CREAM!" she screamed at them from behind a stack of invitations. There was parchment scattered all around the table she was sat at in the common room, with even more lying on the carpet. They couldn't quite make out the handwriting on each piece of parchment because of its scrawled nature, but Harry and Oliver were both sure that it was guest names, food and drink, and, knowing Hermione, seating plans. There was just so much to see that it was almost impossible for Harry to wrap his head around the sheer volume of planning that Hermione was doing for the Bonding, but if she was going to remain as determined as ever to make a huge fiasco out of it, then he and Oliver might as well just give up trying to convince her otherwise. They left her, somewhat begrudgingly, sat at the table where she could rifle through the parchment in peace.

There had been no sign of Swampstead whatsoever, and Harry and Oliver were starting to grow concerned; why wasn't Swampstead attacking them? Was it possible that while they were at Hogwarts they were safe? It seemed likely, but then they needed to consider the fact that if Swampstead really did become stronger when she was hit with Hedgeforth's energy she should have no trouble attacking them at all, not to mention the fact that they had already been attacked at the school before. Harry, Oliver, Ron, and Hermione who had taken a break from planning the Bonding, sat at a table in a far corner of the Gryffindor common on the last Monday of term to talk about the pressing issue at hand, and think of reasons why Swampstead had been so quiet.

"I think she's planning something," Hermione said, "Why else would she be taking her time?"

"If she's got the power to kill both me and Oliver why even bother taking her time? There's no point in drawing it out," Harry said.

"Maybe she's trying to do what she and Hedgeforth did to Dumbledore," Hermione suggested, "She could be trying to make you lose your minds so that you won't put up as much of a fight. If she gets you worried enough, it might work."

"What if she's just given up completely on Harry and Oliver and decided to just kill people?" said Ron.

"She won't," Harry said flatly, "We killed Hedgeforth; we'll be at the top of her hit list."

"That's what terrifies me," said Oliver, "We'll be the ones bearing the full brunt of her power."

"We'll just need to prepare ourselves," Harry said seriously, "That's the only way that we can-"

BOOM!

A sound like a thousand cannons firing all at once resounded throughout the castle, the walls of the common room shuddering from the sheer force of the explosion, the glass in the windows rattling noisily. Many of the students in the common room ran to look out onto the lawns. The Memory Charms had started to wear off; within minutes the entire common room was filled with hysterical screams of one word, "Nocturnimagus!"

Yet the puzzling thing was that some of those that had once been completely terrified by the Nocturnimagus' appearance before were now gripping their wands and heading out of the Gryffindor common room, much to Harry and Oliver's deepest dismay.

"Oliver, we've got to go and stop them! They're going to try and fight Swampstead!" Harry shouted through the commotion and ran after those that had left the common room, Oliver following closely behind, "Ron, Hermione, we need you to calm everyone down while we go and get the others back!"

Harry heard what sounded like a firework as he and Oliver crawled out of the common room, followed by an intense silence that was only broken when Hermione's voice started ringing from inside. The portrait swung shut and the sound was drowned out. They ran down the corridor as fast as they could, intent on stopping the students from risking their lives fighting Swampstead, which would most likely end up being fatal. As they reached the Grand Staircase they noticed that it wasn't just the students that were gearing up for a fight; the suits of armour were now marching out of the doorway into the entrance hall, where there appeared to be a large gathering of teachers.

They jumped down the last flight of steps as the other students joined the mass in the entrance hall. Harry's heart sank when he realised that it wasn't only Gryffindor that was making a stand; Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students were making their way down the Grand Staircase, too. It surprised Harry how he and Oliver had completely missed the flood of students spilling onto the Grand Staircase. As they entered the entrance hall, they saw that many Slytherin students were making their way out of the dungeons; it appeared as though the whole of Hogwarts was joining the fight. The heads of houses were reluctant to let the students take part, however, and shouted for them to return to the dormitories, but they were having none of it and joined the crowd in the centre of the entrance hall, jostling past Harry and Oliver and drawing their wands.

"Potter, Wood," McGonagall's voice rang through the commotion as she bristled past the students and suits of armour, heading straight for them, "I'm sorry to say this but Swampstead is here, and she's got reinforcements," Harry opened his mouth to question the possibility of other Nocturnimagi joining the fight but McGonagall appeared to have anticipated his confusion, "We don't know where they came from, or how they even exist since they were thought long gone, but I'm afraid that it's going to be a rather difficult battle ahead, and I don't mean to put any more pressure on you but I need you to finish this as quickly as you can. You two are the only ones that have the ability to stop the Nocturnimagi; the most that the students and staff can do is hold them back. We won't really slow them down that much; I'd be surprised if we lasted little under an hour. I'm not comfortable with the idea of the students risking their lives in the slightest, so this better come to an end before there are too many casualties. I know that it will be difficult, but it has to be done for the sake of not just the school, but the whole world. This is all happening so fast; we haven't had the time we needed to prepare. Be careful and good luck. We'll hold off the reinforcements as best we can while you track down Swampstead, but we can't guarantee anything; there are so many of them, there aren't enough people here to help us," A shattering echoed from outside the castle, and what sounded like glass smashing resounded through the doors to the entrance hall, yet there was something about the sound that seemed unlike that of glass. Before Harry had chance to think about what the sound could have been, McGonagall said, hurriedly, and looked around rapidly, "She's broken the magical enchantments around the school. She could Apparate right inside if she wanted to," she was about to instruct Professors Flitwick and Sprout to reinstate them but Harry interrupted her as she called them over.

"Wait!" he said hurriedly, "We could use it to our advantage…"

"Very well," said Professor McGonagall, "be quick about this. The last thing we need is the school being destroyed with Christmas just around the corner."

Harry and Oliver pushed their way through the huge throng of students and staff and walked outside into the cold winter air. The sight that met them was not one that they had expected in the slightest; McGonagall had said that Swampstead had reinforcements, yet all that was stood there was the Nocturnimagus herself. The dark clouds in the overcast sky seemed to mirror the stiff mood within the castle and grounds. It was eerily quiet; despite the freezing air there was not a single sign of a breeze; the treetops of the Forbidden Forest were as still as death itself and the surface of the Black Lake remained as frigid as ever.

"I guess I shouldn't be surprised," Swampstead sneered, "Of course the two great love-bearers were going to make an appearance to defend their school."

"What did you expect?" Harry retorted, "Did you honestly think we were going to desert the school when we guessed that you would try and weaken us mentally by attacking where it would hurt the most?"

"You didn't seem to have a problem with it when you visited Oliver's grandmother," she said curtly, "How is she anyway, Mr Wood? I hope she isn't too worried about her pregnant grandson."

"She has no idea that scum like you has been terrorising the school," Oliver spat through gritted teeth.

"Now, now, Mr Wood," Swampstead taunted and waggled a finger at him tauntingly, "I don't appreciate being called scum. I don't think you want to mess with me now that I'm stronger; it was foolish of you to think that you'd be able to provide me with a challenge."

"Stronger? So it _was_ a transference of power to you when Hedgeforth died," Harry said.

"Very good, Potter, yes," Swampstead said in a manner horribly reminiscent of Professor Quirrell before he revealed Lord Voldemort's snake-like face on the back of his head, "When Rynold died he provided me with a power so satisfying, so consuming, so… _multiplying_ that I couldn't help myself but try it out. Of course, it took a while to get used to, otherwise I would have came here earlier. But once I finally had the full grasp of it I headed straight here to avenge his death _and_ get rid of the only two people who threaten my chances at creating mine and Hedgeforth's idyllic world where only magic rules!"

"You've gone mental!" Oliver barked, "Think about what you're saying! You want to create a world full of magical people, but you've got nobody to repopulate with!"

"I don't need another person to repopulate!" Swampstead said with a voice full of contempt, "You forget that Rynold gave me extra powers before he died," she added enigmatically.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Harry said.

"Use your head, you stupid boy!" she growled, "One of the powers I've obtained in the wake of Rynold's death is that of cloning, or _multiplying_!"

But before either Harry or Oliver could talk she had clasped her hands together and closed her eyes tightly, followed by a low buzzing hum that cracked through the air as she started vibrating on the spot. She opened her eyes wide, revealing the dilated red pupils beneath. Her skin took on a death-like paleness and small red bolts of lightning crackled through the air around her. The air was now just as active as the sight in front of Harry and Oliver as Swampstead's actions caused a huge gale to appear out of nowhere. It blustered around the three of them as Swampstead's vibrations grew more wild, less refined, the treetops of the Forbidden Forest rustling violently in the sudden rush of wind. Swampstead shouted, "_Incantata Imitari!_". What sounded like tearing fabric ripped through the air and, to Harry and Oliver's horror, something that looked awfully similar to a human figure started to separate itself from Swampstead's body in the form of a liquid-like substance. The manner in which it pulled itself away from Swampstead reminded Harry of a lava lamp; it flowed seamlessly, unwavering. Then it separated from Swampstead completely, and immediately began to solidify into something that neither Harry nor Oliver could have thought possible; there were now two Swampsteads stood in front of them, each of them glowering menacingly. But it happened again; the air was filled with the sound of tearing fabric once more and the two Swampsteads in front of Harry and Oliver soon became four, then eight, then sixteen, then thirty two and the process repeated until the entirety of the Hogwarts grounds was covered in hundreds of replicas of the original Swampstead, all of them displaying a look of deepest loathing, and hunger for battle. The air around them had regained its still atmosphere. It wouldn't be long now, Harry thought to himself.

"Do you see?" Swampstead gloated, "I'd love to see you try and fend off me _and_ my army of clones!"

"It won't just be them!" McGonagall's voice rang through the stiff winter air. Her voice faltered, as though of fear, yet her face showed all the determination to destroy Swampstead for attacking her school, "Prepare yourself, everyone!" Out from the double doors came a mass of students and suits of armour even greater than the one that Harry and Oliver had pushed through just fifteen minutes earlier; Harry could have been mistaken, but it looked as though even the first years were now joining the fight.

"Professor, get everyone below their fourth year away from the school!" Harry pleaded.

"I've tried, Potter, but they just won't listen!" McGonagall said, "No matter what I do they just won't budge. There's something stopping my Banishing Charms from working."

Oliver, unblinking and unmoving, shouted, "_Depulso First Years! Depulso Second Years! Depulso Third Years!_"

Countless numbers of students in the sudden flood from the entrance hall were pulled into the air. Professor McGonagall watched in astonishment as her students started flying down to Hogsmeade in a great mass.

"How did-"

"There's no time for that, Minerva!" Oliver shouted, "Harry, _DUCK_!"

Oliver dived at Harry as one of the clones sent a Killing Curse crackling in his direction. He hit Harry on the shoulder and they both toppled to the ground, the stray curse missing Oliver by inches and making impact with the stone wall of the castle. With a shuddering groan the stonework exploded in a mass of brown dust and debris that billowed out in the grounds, leaving the wall behind to slowly crumble. This was a mistake on the clone's part, however, and several stray bricks bulleted through the air, impaling themselves into several clones' heads and forcing the doppelgangers to disappear in a cloud of black fog.

"That's how we can tell if we've killed the right one!" Harry realised. He grunted as he and Oliver stood up, "Everyone, it's duel to kill! Use any spell you can think of! If the clones disappear like those just have then we'll know that we need to keep looking!"

The students raised their wands and bellowed in complete harmony, "_Avada Kedavra!_"

Hundreds of bolts of green light sailed through the air towards Swampstead and her clones and hailed down upon them as the assault began. Some of the curses hit their targets dead centre, and to Harry and Oliver's huge relief they saw that they had exploded in a cloud of thick black fog. The suits of armour charged at the clones, only for them to be completely destroyed in a billowing mass of grey dust and flying shrapnel, which, luckily, didn't hurt anyone.

"You think _that_ will stop me?" Swampstead smirked, "I can clone myself any time I like!" she vibrated on the spot once more, and another clone burst from her body, which then proceeded to clone itself again and again until the number of replicas of Swampstead was back to its original state.

The battle had begun and now there was nothing to stop it until Swampstead or Harry and Oliver were dead. The clones' numbers were constantly reducing, although Swampstead was always replacing them. It was obvious that no matter how many clones they killed it would not make much difference; a vigilant Swampstead was constantly replacing the clones she lost.

Whilst the students and most of the staff were occupied with the clones, Harry and Oliver, and some of the teachers, were tackling Swampstead. The Nocturnimagus rocketed into the air and soared high above the grounds. Harry and Oliver followed, fierce determination etched into their faces as shrill screams pierced the air; the first casualties, Harry thought grimly. What was surprising was that Swampstead's clones seemed unable to control the elements like she could.

"What's the matter, Swampy?" Harry taunted, "Don't you like the fact that your clones can't use the elements?" Swampstead merely gave him a dark stare, before swinging her arm forward as though pitching a baseball and sent a ball of mixed flame and rock searing through the air. A quick flick of Harry's hand caused a draft of air to pick the smouldering boulder up and send it streaking off into the distance, "You'll have to try harder than that! I thought Hedgeforth had given you stronger powers!"

Swampstead roared and charged through the air towards him, her hands spread wide and her fingers set into claws. Oliver bulleted towards her and made direct impact into her ribs with his head, causing them to crack and Swampstead to scream in agony.

"_Episkey!_" she shouted and placed a hand on her ribs as she careened towards the still-crumbling castle wall, "You'll pay for that! Clones, attack!" she set off again, flying around the highest tower and coming to a halt at the very top of the steeple, balancing herself on its point with one foot.

Harry and Oliver were ready, and apparently so were the teachers who could nothing but watch from above; they were no use in matters of fighting Swampstead directly, but they had certainly proved themselves proficient at fighting off her clones. Within seconds, her cronies had been obliterated completely by Killing Curses sent from Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout and Snape. Fury coursed through Swampstead's veins and, without warning, she jumped from the tower and landed on the ground with such force that the earth shuddered, and many of the students faltered on their feet and crumpled to the floor. Those that were left standing up had Swampstead's non-existent mercy to content with; she zipped in between them, setting some of them on fire, encapsulating some of their heads in bubbles of water and even causing stalagmites to explode out of the ground. Swampstead's revenge was quick and bloody. Within a matter of minutes almost half of the student population of Hogwarts, to Harry and Oliver's utter horror and guilt, had been decimated. Their corpses were strewn across the ground, bloodied and battered. It was only then that Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione still stood fighting the Nocturnimagus clones, albeit appearing to be heavily wounded and exhausted; Hermione's wand arm was limp and covered in blood; she had to resort to using her other arm to cast spells, but they were far less accurate and powerful; Ron had a smarting black eye and his nose appeared to have been broken in several places; he moved around with a limp. Yet both of them seemed to be holding themselves extremely well against the six clones that they were fighting.

"Use the Killing Curse!" Harry kept shouting at them as he and Oliver flew towards Swampstead, intent on stopping her killing spree.

"_A-Avada Kedavra!_" Ron and Hermione shouted in unison. Not just one green jet of light burst from their wands, but three. Six bolts fired from the tips and swirled around in the air, rising high and higher above the ground, before cascading down onto the clones and making each and every one of them explode into one, huge, billowing cloud of thick black fog that engulfed them.

Harry and Oliver soared through the fog, their vision obscured for a fraction of a second. Swampstead was waiting for them on the other side.

"Surprise!" she shouted and created a huge boulder, which she hurled at Harry. It hit its target and Harry was sent, dazed and confused, veering off towards the hard stone wall, where he made contact and, with a terrible quake, collapsed to the floor, unconscious and with a pool of blood flowing quickly around his head.

"Harry!" Oliver was suddenly consumed by a hatred more powerful than anything he had ever experienced before in his life. He threw caution to the wind and completely disregarded his magical abilities; he didn't care about using magic and he didn't care about anything else other than ensuring that he could inflict as much pain on Swampstead as possible. Swampstead floated there in front of them, laughing maniacally.

"Aw, what's the matter, Mr Wood?" she cackled, "Is poor Potter dead?"

"HE'S NOT FUCKING DEAD!" Oliver bellowed at the height of his lungs. Before Swampstead had a chance to retort, or even react, Oliver had already propelled himself forward with such force that an afterimage of him, gearing up for his attack, was left behind. He collided into Swampstead, who screamed and coughed as the wind was knocked out of her. Oliver remained stable, yet Swampstead seemed to lose her balance and hurtled towards the ground below, but Oliver grabbed her by the scruff of her black, hooded cloak and threw her back into the air. Higher and higher she rose without any method of control; her powers failed her as she tried to come back round from the shock of the sudden assault. With a great whoosh, and the sound of air whistling past his ears, Oliver was shooting up towards Swampstead, his hands curled tightly into white fists. As he reached Swampstead, he swung his arm in a wide hook and caught it, dead centre, on the back of the Nocturnimagus' head. His knuckles cracked and he felt a sharp pain tear through his body, but he didn't care. With a highly satisfying yelp of pain, Swampstead was sent spiralling through the air away from the castle. Oliver tapped his hand and muttered, "_Episkey!_", before setting off once more in Swampstead's direction. All thoughts of magic left him, and he was filled with a sudden thrill that Muggles had when they fought. He was above Swampstead, now, and she was gazing up at him with terror in her eyes. He brought his foot slamming down into Swampstead's gut; she retched from the force of it, and vomited on his leg, before she plummeted down and crashed into the ground with the force of a bulldozer; bits of soil and huge pillars of water erupted from the water-logged castle grounds, and Swampstead lay there in the middle of the crater, white as death, her mouth lolling open and dribbling blood down onto the grass as her head tilted to the side. To everyone's immense relief, the clones disappeared in one, massive, jet-black cloud of fog and Swampstead's body remained there in the crater, unmoving and not breathing. What remained of the student population of Hogwarts cheered and jumped for joy, the sudden realisation of victory washing over them at last. Even the teachers joined in with the celebrations, some of them going so far as to hug the students that were now running up to them, even if they were heavily wounded.

Ron and Hermione had ran over to Harry the moment he made contact with the stone wall and now sat with him as he finally began to come round, albeit highly concussed and unable to say anything other than a few mumbles, which even then where incomprehensible; the bleeding had stopped but the pool of crimson fluid had grown considerably since Oliver last looked at him. When Oliver saw that Harry had propped himself up against the castle wall he couldn't help but breathe a huge sigh of relief, and flew over to him as fast as he could. He sat down next to Harry and pulled him into a tight hug, completely ignoring his blood-matted hair and snuggling deeply into his neck.

"Baby, I thought I lost you," Oliver whispered to him as silent tears flowed down his cheeks, "I love you."

"I love you too, Ollie," Harry managed to grumble.

"Harry! I'm so glad you're alright!" Hermione pulled him away from Oliver, who muttered his disapproval under his breath, and hugged him. She winced slightly as a sharp pain in her arm reminded her of her injuries.

"Welcome back, mate," Ron sighed and flopped down next to him onto the wet grass, "Hermione, we need to help the teachers take the dead bodies into the Great Hall. I heard them talking about closing the school. They'll have no choice; have you seen the state of the castle?"

Indeed, the castle had obtained significant damage; the windows were smashed, roof tiles littered the grounds, giant holes exposed the interiors of the towers. Many parts were engulfed in flames from the fighting. In fact, the only part of Hogwarts that hadn't been damaged was the Quidditch pitch, which pleased Oliver immensely, although he wouldn't voice it just yet.

It was almost midnight, and the sky above threatened to let loose a terrible storm. Madame Pomfrey came hurrying over to Harry and, in particular, Oliver.

"Mr Wood, are you alright? I need to do some-"

"Poppy, I'm perfectly fine. Like you said, the sac will protect the baby from anything," Oliver waved a hand in Harry's direction as if to tell her to pay more attention to him, "Here, Mr Potter," she tipped a phial of potion into Harry's mouth. His eyes lit up, his hair ruffled and then he returned to normal, smiling widely at their victory, "That was a potion I invented myself; it gets rid of concussion and heals any wounds that may have been inflicted on the drinker's head. Now, Miss Granger, Mr Weasley, if you'd let me take a look," she gently lifted Hermione's arm and pointed her wand at her shoulder, "_Episkey!_" a light blue, followed by a crack, and Hermione's arm was mended. Next was Ron, who presented Madame Pomfrey with his leg and she performed the spell once more, "If you're all up to it, could you help the teachers and I bring the fallen inside the castle? Professor McGonagall is contacting the Ministry as we-"

It sounded as though a mine had just erupted next to Harry's ear; the grounds were torn up by an invisible force and the floating grass and soil was hauled in Harry, Oliver, Ron and Hermione's direction, a strange red bolt of lightning zigzagging behind. It made contact with all of them and they crashed backwards into the stonework, many of the remaining students and staff being wiped out completely as the ground beneath gave way, the electricity charging through all of their bodies and causing them to go into convulsions. Harry and Oliver, after overcoming their bodies' involuntary movements, looked up to a sight that made their blood run cold; floating in the air, a blood-red energy swirling violently around her, was Swampstead, her skin still a deathly pale, but the entirety of her eyes now a deep crimson. She looked more evil than Harry ever thought possible; she was snarling, and any traces of her previously sadistic self had gone; _this_ Swampstead wouldn't take pleasure in torturing them, Harry and Oliver knew that. No, now she was focussed solely on ridding herself of Harry and Oliver, and it appeared as though she had finally achieved that full state of power that she had so desperately craved.

"I'VE HAD QUITE ENOUGH OF THIS!" her ungodly voice boomed, "I SHOULD HAVE TAKEN YOUR POWERS LONG AGO! WELL, NO MORE! _FURTUM ELEMENTA!_"

She pointed a bony finger down at Harry and Oliver, her face contorted with fury and hatred; a huge bolt of black light streaked from her outstretched digit and surged towards them. The power of the curse was tangible, and it sent shockwaves rippling through the air, knocking every other person off their feet.

"_Tueri Vinculum!_" Hermione and Ron shouted in unison and pointed their wands at Swampstead. Instead of the effects being borne by Swampstead, however, the spell seemed to head directly for Harry and Oliver, much to Ron and Hermione's terror; two bright gold streaks of light latched onto Harry and Oliver like fishing lines, "GET OUT OF THE WAY!"

But Harry and Oliver were frozen on the spot in terror as the looming black bolt streaked towards them. They could no nothing but stand and stare as it grew closer, feeling its burning heat start to prickle at their faces. It hit them, and they screamed in agony, but the golden fishing lines remained attached and a jolt of power was sent coursing into Ron and Hermione's wands, which leapt up into the air and flipped several times before landing on the wet grass, leaving their owners to bear the full blast of energy. They, too, yowled in pain as the power consumed them. In an explosion of gold and black energy, all four of them were hurled back onto the sodden grass as the few remaining students dashed for cover inside the castle. Swampstead was no longer bothered about them, though, and in their moment of weakness she set a cascade of Stunning Spells upon them, which rained from the sky like scarlet hail and left deep gouges in the ground where the four of them had laid; they had rolled over and stood up as quickly as they could to face Swampstead.

"Ron! Hermione! Get inside!" Harry shouted.

"Harry…" Hermione muttered and nodded to her hands. Several small plants were blossoming out of her fingertips and the ground beneath her feet seemed to be healing itself. The grass and soil across the castle grounds groaned as the earth pulled itself together, literally, and a golden glow shone out into the night, far exceeding that given off by the half-cloud-covered moon.

Ron coughed, and was utterly astonished at what happened; the trees around the school shudder violently in their places, some of them even being uprooted in the sudden gust of wind given off by Ron.

"Harry…" Oliver said with a mystified gaze, "I can't use earth, wind or fire, only water. That spell was supposed to take our powers, I'm sure of it, but the spell Ron and Hermione used must have stopped it. Hold on… I think they have our powers!"

Harry tried with all his might to control earth and wind, but nothing happened, and water was completely useless as well; only fire was available for him to use. In the end he came to the same conclusion that Oliver had.

"Our powers have been divided," Harry realised, "That means that all of us can attack Swampstead at once!"

He tried to lift off from the ground, but not even that worked. The other three tried it, but it didn't work for them either.

"I think Ron and Hermione's spells only stopped our control of the elements being taken away," Oliver said, "And even then they got split up. We're grounded. The most we can do now is fight her from down here."

"I ought to be able to fly," Ron said, "I have control of air so it makes sense."

"Ron's right," said Hermione, "DUCK!"

She tackled Harry and Oliver to the ground as another black bolt of energy was sent surging towards them. It impacted with the wall but instead of stopping it simply carried on, leaving a path of destruction as it zoomed off into the distance.

"Ron, think about using your power to fly, it should work!" Harry shouted as he sent a streak of flame searing in Swampstead's direction to fight the hail of pebbles that she had sent at them. The pebbles fell to the fall, smouldering in the flames.

Ron, to his own surprise, lifted off the ground successfully and soared through the air to meet Swampstead.

"Hermione, is there any way that you'd be able to get us up there with your earth powers?" Oliver asked, "Can't you make a pillar or rock or something?"

"I didn't think of that!" Hermione brought her hands up and soon found herself, along with Harry and Oliver, rising up into the air on three separate pillars of rock, "Hey, it worked! Brilliant!"

They were level with Swampstead, who continued to snarl viciously at Harry, hate and a hunger for power visible in the evil red glint of her eyes. Without warning she turned to Ron, who was now balanced in the air, and hurled a fireball at him. Oliver's reactions were swift, and a quick squirt of water extinguished the ball of flame with a sizzle. Swampstead growled in rage. Before she was able to try and attack again, however, Harry had set a circle of flame on the grass below and was now urging Ron to form a vortex with his powers.

"RON! WE NEED A TORNADO, NOW!"

Ron smirked at Swampstead, whose face had obtained a slight hint of fright, and flicked two fingers upwards. There was a rush of air, and then the night sky appeared to be reaching down to touch the earth itself. A whistling sound became audible as the air passed over Swampstead, and as the vortex made contact with the circle of flame she became completely engulfed by the tornado of fire, which was continuously being fed by Hermione who was producing plants and other means of keeping the spiralling cone alive. Harry and Oliver watched on triumphantly as Swampstead's screams of mixed pain and fury pierced the air. The heat given off from the swirling mass in front of them was comforting, and the fire replaced the moon as the main light source of the night, its bright orange glow casting shadows up the walls of the castle.

"Surely she can't last long now!" Hermione shouted in exasperation over the roar of the flames as she continued to throw wood into the vortex.

The screams died down, and Harry ceased the flames from moving. Hermione stopped feeding the vortex and Ron made the air die down. Swampstead was still floating in the air but she looked worse than anything Harry had ever seen; she was covered in third degree burns yet she remained as determined as ever to destroy Harry and Oliver.

"Give up!" Hermione shouted to her, "You're outnumbered, we can use all our powers together, and you look like you've just gone ten rounds with a Hungarian Horntail."

"I'LL NEVER GIVE UP!" Swampstead spat, "AND I'M NEVER GOING TO LISTEN TO THE MUDBLOOD LIKES OF YOU!"

"Give up," Hermione repeated calmly, "Or we use the one spell that can completely destroy you."

"AND WHAT SPELL IS THAT, YOU MUDBLOOD FILTH?!"

"Ron and I used it twenty minutes ago, and it kept Harry and Oliver's powers working, even if it did divide, but I wonder what effect it will have on someone who has no connection to uphold. Who knows… maybe it will destroy them," Hermione was grinning victoriously now. She glanced at Harry, Ron and Oliver, who appeared to have worked out what the spell was, "On three, gentlemen!"

Swampstead's eyes widened in horror. She panicked and tried to escape, but suddenly there was a barrier preventing her from leaving the circle of power that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver had created. Their eyes started to glow golden as the first words of the incantation left their mouths:

"_TUERI..._"

Swampstead had started pleading for her life, and the evil crimson glint in her eyes was reduced to nothing more than a mere red tint.

"P-please…" her voice seemed to take on a tone that was eerily similar to Snortson's, "Let me live… I didn't mean any of it…"

"BULLSHIT!" Hermione bellowed, startling the others who had not once heard her swear before, "YOU KNOW FINE WELL THAT WHAT YOU DID WAS ON PURPOSE, AND WE _KNOW_ THAT IF WE DID GRANT YOU MERCY, YOU'D GO BACK TO YOUR ORIGINAL PLAN OF TRYING TO KILL HARRY AND OLIVER! WELL, IT ENDS HERE, AND THIS IS THE PLACE YOU DIE, SWAMPSTEAD! SAY THE LAST FUCKING PART, THEN!" she shouted at the others who jumped even more.

"_V-V-VINCULUM!_"

Swampstead shrieked, and a bright golden light exploded out of thin air. It engulfed her, and she screamed louder still as an ochre glow burst from her eyes and mouth, beams and rays almost as bright as the sun protruding out from her black, blood-soaked cloak. The rock formations beneath Harry, Oliver and Hermione crumbled, and they fell to the floor. It felt as though something had been pulled out from beneath Ron as he toppled through the air and landed head-first on the wet grass. As Swampstead screeched above them in renewed torture, an unexpected force pinned Harry, Ron, Hermione and Oliver to the ground. It was like someone or something was digging deep inside them and it was excruciating; they screamed as loud as the Nocturnimagus above until the pain was suddenly gone, and one by one they felt themselves becoming lighter. Harry lay there on the wet grass and stared into the black sky as a red wisp of energy floated up out of his stomach and ascended towards the wailing Swampstead. Once the energy had left him, he found himself able to move once more; he sat up and looked at Hermione, Ron and Oliver, who were squirming on the grass as wisps of energy rose out of their bodies, too. A green orb drifted lazily out of Hermione and joined its brother up in the sky. Next was Ron, who appeared to have exuberated a yellow ball, whilst Oliver had expelled a blue one. They, too, joined up with the other wisps in the air.

Able to move once again, the four of them stood and watched in awe as the scene unfurled in front of them. The teachers and the remaining students flooded back out to see Swampstead flailing wildly in the air as she was swung around by an unseen force, which took care to make sure that she hit her head on a piece of wood that had inexplicably floated up. It appeared as though the elements themselves were attempting to kill her. The wisps of energy joined together and created a great, burning ball of white, hot light. The attacks on Swampstead stopped temporarily, only for her to be rotated around to face the wisp, head-on. She appeared to know what was next, and was now screaming so loudly that lights in Hogsmeade were beginning to flicker on. The white wisp spoke with a voice that Harry thought he recognised, a woman's voice.

"You have been evading judgment for long enough!" it boomed, "Your retribution is now, Milia Swampstead, last of the Nocturnimagi!" then the voice changed, it grew deeper and more like a man, "The Warlock Confederation of the Ancient World has decreed that the wilful use of Nocturnimagus powers is strictly forbidden! You have met your fate at the hands of Vinculum Duo, and now you shall perish like those before you have tried in vain to create a so-called 'idyllic world'!"

The voice died away, and the white wisp surged forward, striking Swampstead directly in the chest and burrowing its way inside her. Swampstead's screaming resumed and, after several more minutes of her thrashing around, she exploded in a gargantuan, billowing cloud of pure blackness that engulfed the already inky night. Not a thing was visible for the few minutes before the cloud settled, but eventually the others were visible once again, as was the now-decrepit castle.

As the students and staff started cheering once again over what was a definite victory, it suddenly started to rain heavily, but there was something special about this rain, mystifying even. When it hit it the ground it didn't erupt into little splashes as it usually did. In fact, it looked as though the ground and the world around them was absorbing the 'water'. Yet that wasn't the most befuddling thing about the rain, and Harry would have thought it a miracle if it hadn't been for his knowledge about Vinculum Duo; the flames in the castle went out, and the fragments of brick and stone that were strewn about the grounds levitated themselves back over to where they were originally placed on the walls. A blinding golden light engulfed the castle, and the sound of fireworks popping punctured the frigid winter air as the school started to inexplicably heal itself, the shards of glass from the windows and greenhouses soared back into their places, and the scattered plates of armour reassembled themselves upon the lawn. Then something else happened, and Harry's mind was now racing as to how this was possible because even magic had its limits, but the mutilated bodies of those that had been left out on the lawns, as well as those that had been pulled into the Great Hall, now started to rise and their wounds started to close up; cuts pulled themselves together and were healed instantly, the misty glaze of the once-dead students' eyes regaining their lively colour, although the signs that they had been injured beyond recognition remained; the students that had been burned still had heavily damaged robes and those that had been drowned with bubbles of water around their heads had the telltale wrinkly skin on the faces, but even as they took in sharp breaths as they readjusted to life, they cried out jubilantly.

Harry ran towards Oliver screaming, "We did it!", and pulled him straight into a tight hug, which was broken only so that the both of them could kiss with unbroken passion and fire as the miracle around them turned to something that seemed far more magical to Harry at that moment, something more romantic, something that reminded him of his upcoming Bonding to Oliver; the first snow of the winter had arrived.


	29. Bonded at Last

**This is the final chapter. To everyone who has read the whole of this fanfiction, I thank you so, so much. *proud author tears***

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**Chapter Twenty Nine – Bonded at Last**

The celebrations after the death of Swampstead lasted for the entirety of the week preceding the Christmas holidays. The teachers, particularly McGonagall, had been reluctant to allow the school to continue operating after the assault by Swampstead and the near-destruction of the castle, not to mention the deaths of some of the students that still roamed freely about the corridors, completely and inexplicably alive. The 'miracle rain', as it had been dubbed, may have brought the dead back to life and reversed the damage caused by the Nocturnimagi but the effects of Swampstead and her clones' attack still remained etched into the minds of those who had been affected; the students that had lost their lives found it highly entertaining to recall their experiences of death and what they saw beyond it, but the descriptions were nowhere near as thrilling as the other students expected them to be.

"It felt like someone was lifting a huge weight off my chest," one Slytherin said to a huddle of other students during a Potions lesson. Harry was simply sat at the back with Ron and Hermione; they had all heard this story ten times before, "I remember floating through something white, like fog, and then I saw my grandparents standing in front of me, smiling. They said that something was wrong, like I didn't belong there. But then they said that there were souls being taken away from the afterlife, ones that were meant to stay there."

Lessons continued to go by as normal, although the staff were now insistent upon making them as relaxed and comfortable as was possible due to the completely exhausting battle that Monday night; Tuesday's lessons had been cancelled so that both students and staff could get some sleep after the all-night partying after Swampstead's demise. Just when Harry and Oliver thought that life was finally getting back to normal, the morning after the end of the Nocturnimagus' reign of terror they, along with the rest of the school, received the shock of their lives, although they should have expected it; sat in the very centre of the staff table was a very fresh-looking Albus Dumbledore, whose portrait in the head's office had vanished. He was welcomed with applause warmed than the sun itself, and even accepted a few hugs from the first years that had grown to love him like the rest of the school; even the Slytherins, who had now reached such a high level of civility that they were now on friendly terms with the Gryffindors, welcomed the headmaster back, but none more so than the Gryffindors, who could have burst the roof of the school of with the enthusiasm of their applause.

It really did seem as though there had never been anything to do with Nocturnimagi going on at Hogwarts, and the only evidence that suggested it was the highly diminished supply of Dreamless Draught and the testimonies of the students that had seen them with their own eyes, and fought them. Harry and Oliver had both agreed that should someone ask about the Nocturnimagi's attack on the school they would deny anything to do with it and even try to disprove any theories that may arise on the subject; if it was fear of the Nocturnimagi that led to the rise of rise of the previous two Harry and Oliver were going to do everything they could to prevent another one coming to power and the best way to do it would be to stop knowledge of them from spreading. Every student in the school had agreed not to speak a word of it to anyone outside of Hogwarts under Dumbledore's order, which was not something that anybody wanted to go against, no matter how friendly and understanding the headmaster was.

Hermione and Ron had obviously enjoyed their brief taste of the powers that Harry and Oliver had had, and they seemed rather put-out to find that they could no longer control earth or air the next day. What shocked them more, however, was that Harry and Oliver had completely lost their ability to fly without a broom as well as their elemental powers, but none more so than the fact that neither of them could perform freehand magic like they used to; Oliver still retained the little bit of freehand magic he was able to perform before he had become infused with Harry's abilities, but Harry, unfortunately, had to return to using a wand in order to do all of his magic.

"You know why you don't have your powers anymore, don't you?" Hermione said the next day after dinner, "When Swampstead cast that spell at you it took your powers away. She didn't gain anything from it, other than a false sense of security that you had lost all of your abilities. It's a good thing that Ron and I remembered the spell that Dumbledore used in that dream a while ago otherwise we'd probably be dead right now."

"You're right," Harry said slowly, "We got really lucky…"

"Yes, we did," Hermione said gruffly and returned to her pieces of parchment that remained strewn across the table and floor from the previous day just before Swampstead attacked.

"Hermione, aren't you going to give up on this Bonding thing yet?" Oliver asked incredulously, "We don't know how many times we've told you but- ow!"

"What's wrong, Ollie?" Harry worried.

"Nothing," Oliver grunted and started rubbing his neck, "Just got a bit of an ache. I think I pulled a muscle."

"It doesn't surprise me," Harry said, "We were being thrown all over the place last night. Swampstead didn't exactly give us an easy time, either," he added with a secret wink to Oliver, who snorted into a glass of pumpkin juice he'd brought up with him. Hermione and Ron simply glanced at each other and shook their heads in disbelief.

"I don't believe you two," Ron laughed, "You don't care where you are, do you?"

"Not really," Oliver smiled and reached under the table to stroke Snuffles, but he wasn't there, "Baby, where's Snuffles?"

"I have no idea," Harry said, "Snuffles? Snuffles! Come here, boy!", but the Crup didn't appear, "Can you give me a hand looking for him, please, Ollie?"

"Yeah, I've got nothing better to do," Oliver said with a yawn. He crawled out of the Gryffindor common room through the crawlspace, followed closely by Harry who couldn't help but make remarks about his butt.

"That arse…" Harry smirked cheekily as they set off down the Grand Staircase, "Am I really going to be getting a piece of that every night for the rest of my life? I must be lucky…"

"Or you might have the found the one person who will always love you," Oliver ginned back, "Where shall we start looking?"

"How about down at Hagrid's and then we can work our way back up to the common room?" Harry suggested.

"That seems logical," Oliver said, "Off to Hagrid's it is, then! Race ya…" He ran down the stairs as fast as he could before Harry had a chance to even move; he was already at the landing of the fourth floor when Harry had realised what he was being challenged to and dashed pell-mell to catch up with him, but Oliver was far more nimble on his feet and had stepped off the staircase completely by the time Harry jumped down an entire flight of stairs to the first floor, "Come on, Harry, you'll have to move _much_ faster than that!"

Harry drew his wand as he ran into the entrance hall to see Oliver almost at the double doors leading out of the castle, "_Locomotor Mortis!_" he shouted. The spell caught Oliver around the knees and sent him crashing to the floor, "Hurry up, Ollie!" Harry laughed as he ran out into the cold winter air beyond. He hadn't banked on the fact that it was freezing outside; the snow from the previous night was still falling, thick and fast onto the grounds and covered it in a blanket of pure whiteness. Even though the dull clouds above covered every inch of the vast expanse of sky Harry could not deny just how beautiful the snow-topped trees of the Forbidden Forest looked, and what was even more breathtaking was the dusting that had spread itself evenly over the houses of Hogsmeade village and Hagrid's Hut. The bitter air pinched at his skin so he drew his shirt up over his face as much as he could without exposing his stomach to the freezing menace; he should have brought his coat. The doors to the entrance hall swung open and Oliver bolted out of the castle, drawing a black cloak from his pocket and throwing it around his neck.

"It's a good thing I know the counter curse!" he jibed as he dashed for Hagrid's Hut, his cloak picking up snow as it billowed out behind him. Harry couldn't help but smile to himself as he gave chase all the way up to Hagrid's Hut, the chimney of which was belching out black smoke into the thick winter air. Oliver stopped just short of the half-giant's dwelling and waited. Harry slowed down next to him, breathless and panting, "Remember what I said, there are no losers in this relationship," Oliver placed a kiss on Harry's cheek and walked up to Hagrid's door while Harry regained his breath and composure.

The door opened with a creak and Hagrid stood there, beaming, his small black eyes crinkled at the sides and his thick black beard dangling in front of him, when he saw that Harry and Oliver had came down for a visit, "'Ello, you two! Come on in ou' o' the weather and le' me ge' yeh a nice cup o' tea," he bustled inside and left the door open for Harry and Oliver to clamber over the step, "So wha' brings yeh 'ere then?" he asked conversationally as he poured tea into three large mugs.

"We're actually looking for our Crup Snuffles," Harry said as he and Oliver took their seats in the overlarge squashy armchairs, "We can't find him."

"A Crup? Is this 'im?" Hagrid walked over to the dog bed and pulled back a thick grey blanket, "Came dashin' up to me door las' nigh'. Shakin' somethin' fierce, 'e was," Snuffles, who was laid next to Fang, poked his head up out of the bed and, once he spotted Harry and Oliver, darted towards his owners and started to lick every bit of them he could reach, "Playful thing, ain' 'e?"

"Down, Snuffles," Oliver laughed. The Crup obeyed and sat expectantly in front of them.

"I watched wha' was happenin' up at the castle las' nigh'," Hagrid said grimly, "Yeh did well, the lo' of yeh. You, Oliver, Ron and Hermione, I mean. It's jus' such a terrible thing tha' we los' all them students."

"Erm… Hagrid?" Harry said and placed his mug down on the table, "Did you see what happened after Swampstead- that's the woman who was attacking us- died?"

"I couldn' see anythin' after she exploded…" Hagrid said, "Somethin' else happen?"

"Yeah, something else _did_ happen," Oliver said, "You won't believe us when we tell you but, the students that died came back to life when it started raining."

"Y-yer jokin'?" Hagrid stammered, "I though' tha' it was meant ter be impossible to raise the dead!"

"So did we," Harry said.

They sat there for a few minutes quietly sipping their tea before Hagrid realised that Harry and Oliver were both wearing rings.

"Th-those rings! A-Are yeh gettin' Bonded?!" Harry could see that Hagrid's eyes were starting to fill with tears as he spoke.

"Yeah, we are," Harry smiled, "The only problem is, we _still_ haven't worked out a date to get Bonded yet, and it doesn't help that Hermione is planning it with Oliver's Muggle grandmother; they're going to make a huge fiasco out of it, but we just want a small ceremony."

"Muggle? I always though' tha' yeh were pure-blood, Oliver," Hagrid said, surprised.

"Nope. I'm half-blood, just like Harry. My mother's a witch but my dad's a Muggle," Oliver said, "I don't see either of them though, not that it bothers me; I've got my Nana and she's all I need, apart from my wonderful Harry," he added and pecked him on the cheek.

"Wha' theme are yeh havin' fer yer Bondin'?" Hagrid asked.

"No idea," said Harry, "Hermione hasn't even told us when the Bonding is, who's coming or what food we're having."

"Tha' sounds like Hermione, alrigh'," Hagrid chuckled, "Likes ter keep things secret, she does."

"I wish she wouldn't," Oliver said darkly, "Me and Harry need to know when to buy our dress robes and everything."

Harry glanced at him, as though he had just realised something that they should have thought about ages ago, "This is Hermione we're talking about," Harry smiled, "She'll already have everything ready. You know what she's doing, don't you? She's organising everything so that when the Bonding comes, we just need to do as we're told!"

"Yep, definitely Hermione," Oliver laughed.

"I'm r-really ch-chuffed fer yeh, lads," Hagrid began to sob behind a napkin the size of a picnic blanket, "I-I always knew yeh'd fin' someone who'd make yeh happy, Harry, and I've g-got ter say tha' y-yeh couldn've picked a b-better man than Oliver," he wiped his eyes with his dustbin lid-sized hands as great tears flowed down his face into his wiry mess of a beard.

"Thanks, Hagrid," Oliver smiled, "Harry, shall we get going? It's almost cur-"

"Wha's Hermione doin' comin' down 'ere at this time o' nigh'?" Hagrid interrupted. Harry and Oliver looked out of the window to see Hermione trotting down the slope towards Hagrid's Hut, occasionally slipping on the snow in her hurry. Hagrid walked over to the door and opened it just as she was about to knock, "'Ello, Hermione! Harry and Oliver was jus' tellin' me that you're plannin' their Bondin'! Come in, come in!"

"Thanks, Hagrid," Hermione smiled and walked inside, where she took the last remaining squashy chair, "So _this_ is where you got to, Snuffles," she said when she noticed the Crup sitting obediently in front of Harry and Oliver, "I'm finished at last," she told Harry and Oliver with a sigh of relief.

"Finished what?" Harry asked.

"Planning the Bonding, you daft dimbo," Hermione gave a half-laugh, "We're having it at The Burrow."

"What's The Burrow?" Oliver said confusedly.

"Ron's house," said Hermione, "Mrs Weasley joined Mrs Wood and I in planning the Bonding and she said we were welcome to use The Burrow as the venue."

"I appreciate the gesture and everything," Harry began, "But I think I'd like to have the Bonding here, at Hogwarts. What about you, Ollie? I want your opinion on this."

"How about the Quidditch pitch?" Oliver suggested.

"Always Quidditch with you, isn't it?" Harry chuckled and draped an arm around his neck. Oliver blushed, "But I love you. I think it sounds like a great idea."

"I'll send an owl telling Mrs Weasley there's been a change of venue," Hermione sighed in exasperation and stood up, ready to leave.

"Where're yeh goin'? Yeh jus' got 'ere," Hagrid said disappointedly.

"Sorry, Hagrid," Hermione said furtively, "But I need to get things organised as soon as possible so I can't waste any time."

"What do you mean, 'as soon as possible'?" Oliver asked, "Hermione, when exactly have you planned the Bonding for?"

"Christmas Day…" Hermione mumbled and ran from the Hut back up to the castle.

"She really is unbelievable," Oliver laughed, "That only gives us just over a week to prepare our honeymoon! Harry, we need to see a travel agent! Sorry, Hagrid," Oliver apologised and pulled Harry out of the small wooden shack, "C'mon, Snuffles!" the Crup bounded out after them as they trudged through the snow back up to Hogwarts, and to Gryffindor Tower.

Once they were sat back in the common room, Harry and Oliver started to go over the different places they could visit for their honeymoon.

"Paris?" Oliver suggested and scratched the name down on a spare of piece of parchment he had found lying on the table where Hermione had been planning the Bonding.

"No, too cliché," Harry shook his head, "We want something that isn't very common as a honeymoon destination, somewhere that we _know_ we won't find annoying couples. You know, the ones that like to compare their wedding with yours."

"It'll be difficult finding a place that we like that isn't common, you know?" Oliver said warningly, "I want to go somewhere sunny, and beautiful like you."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Wood," Harry said with a wide grin, "Which place do you have in mind?"

"The Bahamas," said Oliver.

"Will it be full of other newlyweds, though?" Harry said and raised an eyebrow. Oliver remained silent, "That's what I thought. Hawaii?"

"Newlyweds," Oliver replied flatly, "Kenya?"

"Too hot," said Harry, "Norway?"

"Too cold," Oliver said, "Poland?"

"Anti-wizard laws," Hermione shouted as she walked over from the portrait hole, which she had just crawled through, "Honestly, haven't either of you read_ A History of Magic_?"

"Let's see what ideas you've got then," Harry said grumpily.

"The Maldives?" she said, "I know that's not very common with newlyweds, even though it's quite the tourist destination for holidaymakers."

"That's actually not a bad idea," Oliver said, "What's the nightlife like there?"

"What nightlife?" Hermione scoffed, "It's rather quiet there, actually. But that's not the best part; the Ministry of Magic in the Maldives allows witches and wizards to use magic in front of Muggles."

"Isn't that going against the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy?" Oliver said.

"It would be," Hermione began, "if the Ministry didn't have enchantments in place that wiped Muggles' memories once they left the island; all they'd be able to remember would be their holiday. They'd completely forget about magic."

"Where are you getting all this knowledge, Hermione?" Harry asked. Hermione merely gave him an incredulous glance.

"Unlike some people, I take the time to _read_ the books we get set for class," Hermione said pompously.

"I thought it was your voice I could heard, Herms," Ron walked over to the table where the others sat.

"You know I don't like being called that, Ronald," Hermione scolded him.

"And you know I don't like being called _that_, either," Ron countered and stuck his tongue out at her. He really did look quite childish, but Harry and Oliver both thought it was highly amusing.

It was getting late now, and the exhaustion from the previous night still bore down upon everyone in the castle. By nine o'clock everybody had snuggled up cosily in their beds and not a light in the castle was on, but Harry and Oliver remained awake.

"It's a beautiful night outside," Oliver said dreamily as he stood at Harry's bedroom window, the only source of light being that of the moon which reflected magnificently off of the pure white blanket of snow, which sparkled as the moonlight hit its surface and emanated a soothing glow across the grounds, "Come and look," Harry walked over to the window and gazed out at the snow-covered lawns. Oliver, who had positioned himself behind Harry, snaked his arms around Harry's waist and drew him closer, "It's almost as beautiful as you," he whispered huskily into the younger boy's ear, "I want you tonight, baby…" he pressed his nose into the crook between Harry's neck and shoulders and nuzzled deeply into him.

"Not tonight, Ollie," Harry smiled exhaustedly, "Or any other night from now until we get Bonded. I want to save myself for our Bonding night," he placed his lips onto Oliver's in a gentle kiss, then brought his arms up around Oliver's neck. They stood there for a while, smiling against each other's lips, until Harry pulled away and started to get undressed, Oliver doing the same once Harry had crawled into the bed, naked. It had become the usual thing for them to sleep in the nude; they loved the feeling of each other's bare skin touching. It was just one of those things that they both enjoyed doing together, and spooning was certainly near the top of their list of intimate activities. They fell asleep quite fast, Harry snoozing into Oliver's muscular back as they drifted off into the now-peaceful land of dreams.

The final day of term came quickly, and the entire school was rejoicing; lessons had been cancelled to allow the students to pack their things for the trip back home on the Hogwarts Express the next day. Dumbledore had agreed to having the Bonding at the Quidditch pitch, and with only a week until Christmas Day and the ceremony Harry and Oliver couldn't have been more excited. They had agreed to follow tradition; Harry was to stay at The Burrow on Christmas Eve, while Oliver would stay at his grandmother's house, then they could be Bonded Christmas Day and they would open their gifts for each other that night, before the consummation of their Bonding could begin, an activity that they were both looking forward to.

"Snuffles, get down!" Harry shouted as he hurried around his room the night before the trip home, the Crup constantly jumping up at him as he threw items of clothing into his trunk. He made sure to send the presents he had bought off to The Burrow before Oliver had a chance to see them, "Oh, fuck this!" he sighed and slumped down onto his bed in a huff.

"Just lay down and relax, Harry. I've got it," Oliver patted him on the shoulder and waved his wand in the air. The clothes and other bric-a-brac flew through the air and landed in Harry's trunk, which shut with a dull click, "There you go. All packed," he made an attempt at sliding a hand up Harry's shirt as he laid down on the bed next to him, but Harry slapped it away.

"You know the rules," he winked at Oliver, "No funny business until Christmas Night."

"Come on, not even a teensy, tiny blowjob or even kissing?" Oliver whined.

"Nope," Harry said determinedly, "It'll be so much better on our Bonding night, I promise," he placed a small kiss on Oliver's cheek and ushered him out of the room, "I don't want temptation to get the best of me!" he shouted as Oliver walked down the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, "You'll thank me once we're Bonded!"

Harry and Ron, and Hermione who had told her parents about everything that happened including the death of Swampstead as well as the ever-closer Bonding ceremony, trudged their belongings down to Hogsmeade the next day with the rest of the school and boarded the scarlet train.

"I'll see you when we get Bonded, Snitchy," Oliver had said up at the castle before the trio left, "I love you so much, don't you ever think twice about that," he added and kissed Harry. It was gentle and warm, and although they had agreed on keeping intimate activities at a minimum before the Bonding, they just couldn't resist showing their love for each other one last time before the 'loveathon', as Oliver had dubbed it. Oliver Disapparated as they walked down to Hogsmeade.

Half an hour into the journey to Kings Cross a Ravenclaw first year with oily black hair and a mole on her cheek poked her head into their compartment.

"You're wanted in the teachers' carriage," she spoke with a thick Irish accent, "the other Head Boys and Girls are there, too."

Ron, who had been engrossed in a game of wizard's chess with Harry, groaned, stood up and dawdled out of the carriage, with Hermione following closely behind. Harry was left alone in his carriage for the rest of the journey and his boredom had spiked to an unimaginable level as the train passed a forest that would have been a deep shade of green were it not for the snow that was laid upon the trees. The most exciting thing that happened during the trip back Kings Cross was when a gaggle of girls came bustling into his carriage completely unannounced, asked to see his engagement ring, the wings of which fluttered jubilantly, and then left after they were satisfied. What they were satisfied with, Harry wasn't certain; he had never seen any of them before in his life, and it actually made the journey more confusing than interesting or exciting. Eventually the scarlet steam train shuddered to a halt at platform nine and three quarters. Only then did Ron and Hermione resurface. Ron appeared to have a rather excited grin spread across his face, whilst Hermione looked worried about something.

"What did they want you for?" Harry asked.

"Mate, you won't believe-"

"Ron, _shush_! You know we can't tell _anyone_ about what we heard in there!" Hermione scolded him. The look of excitement dissipated, and Ron pouted like a child. They clambered off the train and headed out of the barrier onto the Muggle platform beyond, where the Weasley clan had assembled ready to take them to The Burrow.

Harry's Christmas holidays had never gone by so quickly in all his time at Hogwarts; from the moment he set foot in The Burrow time seemed to pass much faster than Harry thought was even possible, but he didn't seem to mind; with three days left until the Bonding, and Christmas, the excitement in the air at The Burrow was palpable and Harry knew that Mrs Weasley was keeping a close eye on him to make sure that he really was happy with the ceremony going ahead. He was getting slightly frustrated by the amount of times he had had to reassure her that he had not changed his decision and he was certain that getting Bonded to Oliver was what he wanted. He was telling the truth; he hadn't been more excited for Christmas in his life and as the hours and days passed he began to grow restless; two and a half days… two days… one and a half days…

Christmas Eve came and as the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione were settling down to a dinner of beef bourguignon the same owl that Oliver used to communicate with his grandmother landed on the snowy pane outside the window, a brown envelope attached to its leg. It rapped on the door several times before anyone noticed that it had arrived.

"I'll get it," Harry said politely and opened the window to let the owl in; it was snowing once again outside, which added to the abundance of snow that was already laid on the ground. The owl glided over to the table top, where it waited for Harry to sit down before it outstretched its leg for him to take the dampened envelope.

Harry unfurled the letter while everybody else at the table watched in interest. He recognised the curly handwriting on the front of the envelope; it was from Oliver.

"Read it out," Ginny encouraged him, "I bet it's from Oliver."

"It is," Harry said, "He's wrote me a poem," he started to read it out.

_My wonderful Harry,  
_  
_Tomorrow is the big day,  
And together we shall be,  
Remember that I'll love you,  
For all eternity.  
We've been through so much together,  
Over these last few weeks,  
I think it's safe to say we deserve,  
The happiness we seek._

_I love you so much, Harry. I can't wait to see you tomorrow when I can finally show you just how much I truly do want to spend my life with you. Just wait until tomorrow night. Baby, we'll be flying to the stars and we can hold each other on our way there.  
Purest loving thoughts,  
Ollie xxx_

"That boy's so sweet he's going to give me cavities," Mrs Weasley said admiringly, "You've got a keeper there, Harry."

"He does," Ginny snickered, "Literally."

"I have no idea what you mean, Ginny," said Mrs Weasley.

"Oliver played Keeper for the Gryffindor Quidditch team, mum," Ron said, "You made a joke and you didn't even know it."

"I did, didn't I?" Mrs Weasley chuckled as she sent the plates over to the sink with a swish of her wand; they cleaned themselves and then soared back into their cupboard, "Big day tomorrow," she squealed excitedly, "Early night, I think. Off to bed! Before you go, Harry, I need to test your dress robes on you to see if they fit. Don't worry, I sent Oliver his earlier today. He knows how to resize clothes, I checked," she added when Harry gave her an unsure glance.

As Mr Weasley, Ron, Fred, George, Ginny and Hermione climbed the stairs to their rooms Harry moved over into the sitting area, where his dress robes were waiting on the sofa for him to try on. They looked astonishing; a pristine white shirt was folded neatly next to a scarlet-and-gold waist jacket that was embroidered with an exquisite design of small snitches, made up entirely of golden thread. A pair of black polished shoes and pressed pants had been spread on the seat next to them. Over the back of the sofa was a long cloak that trailed down to the floor, the colours matching that of the waist jacket.

"I don't know what to say…" Harry said breathlessly.

"You don't have to say anything, dear," Mrs Weasley pulled him into a bone-crushing hug.

"How much did all this cost?" Harry asked, staring at the beautiful clothes in front of him.

"I'm not going to tell you that, dear, you'll only want to pay us back," Mrs Weasley was wise to Harry's tricks, "But I _will_ tell you this; it was worth every penny we spent. You're a wonderful young man, Harry, anyone can see that, and you and Oliver are both so lucky to have each other. You both deserve a stupendous ceremony, especially after saving the world like you did."

"We couldn't have done it without Ron and Hermione's help," Harry blushed as he changed into the shirt and slipped the waist jacket on; Mrs Weasley had turned round to allow him a bit more privacy.

"So modest…" Mrs Weasley sniffed as she pulled a handkerchief out from the pocket of her apron, "You're growing up so fast; it only seems like yesterday that I was helping that lonely little boy onto platform nine and three quarters. And now look at you! Harry, you look _wonderful_!" she burst into tears when she turned back round to see Harry now changed into his dress robes.

The scarlet-and-gold waist jacket and cloak blended well with his slightly tanned skin and his emerald eyes sparkled behind his glasses as he gazed upon his slightly muscular figure in the large square mirror on the wall.

Mrs Weasley grabbed his arm and yanked him into yet another tight hug, "I'm so proud of you," she sobbed into his ear, "You're so grown up now," she pulled away from him and stood in the middle of the living area admiring his suit, her eyes streaming tears down her face, "Such a handsome man…" she muttered, "Alright, dear, let's get them off and you up to bed. Big day tomorrow!" she turned around again and let Harry get changed back into his normal clothes.

Once he was changed he folded his clothes back and walked upstairs to Ron's bedroom, where he slumped onto the soft guest bed, exhausted. He lay there for a while staring up at the ceiling as thoughts of Oliver and the next day surfaced in his mind. They were wonderful and gave Harry such meaningful comfort that within minutes he was out like a light.

"Harry, dear, wake up! It's the big day!" Mrs Weasley's shrill voice reverberated throughout the house, "Everybody's already up!"

It was still dark outside and when Harry looked at the clock to see that it was five in the morning he gave a loud groan and threw the covers over his head. It hadn't dawned on him yet that Mrs Weasley wasn't meaning Christmas when she said 'the big day'.

"Harry, mate, come on! Get up!" Ron shouted as he walked into the room and pulled the covers away from Harry, wearing a scarlet suit.

"What are you wearing?" Harry yawned and rubbed his eyes, "You look like the mascot for Gryffindor."

"What does it look like I'm wearing? It's my suit for the Bonding!" Ron said in exasperation, "Now come on! You don't want to keep everyone waiting!"

"Bonding? What Bon-" he sat bolt upright in bed. It came rushing back in a flood of memories, "Where are my dress robes?"

"They're downstairs," Ron said as he fixed a gold tie around his neck, "Mum said you can just wear your normal clothes for now but everyone else needs to be at the Quidditch pitch for six. We all got up an hour ago; all our presents are open. Thanks for the broomcare kit and those figurines mate, they're great!"

"Don't mention it. Merry Christmas," Harry said tiredly as he pulled on his clothes from the previous night and dragged himself downstairs to the living area, where everybody had already assembled.

Ginny stood there in a pretty golden dress with a scarlet belt just below her chest, her straight, waist-length, Weasley-red hair dangling behind her with a few gold ribbons here and there. Fred and George stood next to her, both wearing the same scarlet suit as Ron; it looked just like a normal suit a Muggle would wear, except the outer layers were scarlet and the tie was gold. Mr Weasley was helping Mrs Weasley in the kitchen. Mr Weasley noticed Harry standing in the doorway.

"Good morning, Harry! Merry Christmas!" he beamed.

"What happened to your dress robes?" Harry asked as he realised that Mr Weasley was dressed in a scarlet set of robes; the ones that Harry had bought in Diagon Alley were black with white cuffs.

"When it was decided that the colour scheme was going to be scarlet and gold and Molly realised that my dress robes were the wrong colour she used a quick Colour Changing Charm and made it the right colours. Don't worry, these are the ones you bought," Mr Weasley smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his horn-rimmed spectacles.

"Who are you talking to, dear?" Mrs Weasley shouted from the kitchen as she fussed about with the platters of food and, once she was satisfied with the buffet, waved her wand in the air. The platters disappeared with a pop, "Oh! Good morning, Harry, dear! Merry Christmas!" she pulled Harry into a hug. She was wearing the scarlet-and-gold frilly dress that Harry had bought her in Diagon Alley, "Big day today. I bet you're excited, I know I am!"

"Mum, can you leave poor Harry alone and let him have some breakfast?" said Ginny.

"Oh… er… yes, sorry about that, dear. Let me fix you something to eat," she waved her wand in the air and the pans in the kitchen started to clatter about as they cooked a full English breakfast for Harry, "Arthur, can you take Ginny, Ron, Fred and George to Hogwarts while I stay here with Harry and wait for him to get dressed, please?"

"Gather round," Mr Weasley called from the kitchen and pulled out an old tattered boot, "On the count of three we grab the Portkey and it'll take us to Hogwarts. Ready? One… two… three!" they grabbed the Portkey and within seconds they had all disappeared in a whirl of colour.

"Where's Hermione?" Harry asked, "I thought she'd be here."

"She's up at the castle already, dear," Mrs Weasley smiled and brought him his breakfast, "She Disapparated there a little while before you woke up. Mrs Wood is up there now fixing the last little bits and pieces."

"Mrs Wood? She's a Muggle, though. Hogwarts has enchantments in place to stop Muggles from seeing the castle," Harry said confusedly as he ate his breakfast.

"Dumbledore tweaked it a bit so that Mrs Wood could make a few last-minute arrangements. She won't be able to see the castle after today," she said as she started fussing about with his hair. She tried to flatten the wild black mane but, as usual, nothing worked; it just kept on springing back its original position, "Doesn't your hair ever stay flat?" she moaned, "Oh, I give up. Have you finished, dear?"

"Yes, thanks, Mrs Weasley," Harry nodded politely and handed her his plate, which she took to the kitchen and left it to clean itself, before it soared back into the cupboard and landed on top of the other plates with a clank.

"Time to get dressed," Mrs Weasley beamed, "How are you feeling, dear?"

"A little nervous," Harry admitted as he started to get his dress robes on, "But I'm sure I'll be fine once I get down the aisle. I can't believe I'm getting Bonded to Oliver. He means so much to me," his voice started to break slightly as he spoke, and Mrs Weasley gave him a napkin to wipe his misty eyes with, "It seems so surreal; I'm going to have a husband by the end of the day, and I'm going to be a daddy by next September!"

"I have to say, you're taking all of this very well, Harry," Mrs Weasley said as she adjusted Harry's cloak at the back, "If all of this was happening to me I'd crack under the pressure!"

"I don't feel pressured though, Mrs Weasley," Harry said, "If anything I feel more relaxed. There's something about being with Oliver and having a child with him that just makes me feel so happy and peaceful," he slipped on his shoes.

Mrs Weasley pointed her wand at them and gave them a last polish before she announced, "You're all ready to go. We just need to wait for a message from the castle and then the ceremony can begin."

Harry had felt like this before; a cluster of butterflies was fluttering wildly inside his stomach, and the more he thought about the ceremony the more frightening and nerve-racking the whole thing became. But there was one thing that kept Harry sane and in control of his emotions; the idea of spending his life with Oliver was one that gave him an unimaginable amount of comfort and he wasn't going to let go of that feeling at any cost.

"Mrs Wood, is everything ready?" Hermione asked as she bustled around the Great Hall; the four long house tables had been replaced by about two dozen large round tables, each of them looking as though they could fit ten people around. On each of the tables was a red tablecloth with golden snitches moving around a silently-roaring lion embroidered into the enchanted fabric. A miniature goalpost stood in the centre of the tables and had a mix of red and gold balloons attached by a piece of red ribbon, which floated high above. A long table at the end of the hall had two cushioned, throne-like chairs which matched the colour scheme perfectly; this was clearly the head table and Harry and Oliver were obviously supposed to sit in mock thrones. Another table was lined against the wall on one side of the room and was decorated in a similar manner to the other tables, only this was much barer than the others; there was something missing.

Hermione still hadn't gotten changed into the scarlet dress that she had bought for the ceremony; it was strapless, and had a golden belt that cut across her midsection.

"Nearly, dear," Mrs Wood called back, "All we need now is the food to arrive and then- oh, here it is!"

The platters of food drifted in through the double doors to the entrance hall and settled on the table at the side of the room. Pizza, sausage rolls, quiche, pumpkin pie, corned beef pie, cocktail sausages, pork pies, scotch eggs, everything looked amazing and delectable, but there were still several more platters to come bearing bowls full of salad, coleslaw, potato salad and curried rice, and jugs filled to the top with pumpkin juice, fruit punch, mulled mead provided especially for the occasion by Madame Rosmerta, firewhiskey and butterbeer. Next to land on the table, and to complete the buffet, were saucers piled high with profiteroles, battenberg cake, Swiss rolls, teacakes, Viennese whirls and treacle tart, and bowls full of trifle, crème brûlée, chocolate and strawberry gateau, as well as a huge cake that settled itself proudly in the centre of the table. It was four layers high and each layer alternated between red icing and gold icing. The base of each layer had a ribbon of the opposite colour tied neatly around with a little bow and at the top of the cake stood moving models of the two grooms, made entirely of icing and dressed in the signature Gryffindor Quidditch robes, each holding a broom of their own. At times they would appear to grow bored and take flight to do a few laps of the Great Hall. As they flew about the Hall they passed over what appeared to be a stage in one corner of the room; a guitar stood against the wall and a drum kit bearing the name 'The Weird Sisters' sat in the centre on top of the scarlet fabric that had been laid over the wooden stage.

"Where's Oliver?" Mr Weasley said as he and the rest of the Weasleys came bustling into the Great Hall.

"He's down at the Quidditch pitch," Hermione shouted from the other end of the Hall, "Mrs Wood, can you go and check to see how he's doing, please?"

Mrs Wood nodded and hurried out of the Great Hall, the bottom of her dress fluttering wildly as she moved.

"Not long now," Ginny said excitedly as she took a seat at one of the tables nearest to Hermione.

"I know, it's so exciting!" Hermione squealed, "Harry and Oliver didn't want a big ceremony like this but I truly believe that they deserve it, especially after what they've been through over the last few weeks. If I know Harry as good as I think I do, he'll be waiting for tonight."

"What's so special about tonight?" Ginny said confusedly.

"It's their Bonding night. Think," Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Oh… Oh!" Ginny suddenly flushed a crimson almost as bright as her hair.

"Aaaaaaaand, it's clicked," George said sarcastically.

A loud crack erupted from outside.

"That sounds like someone just Apparated!" Hermione said, "I thought it wasn't possible to Apparate or Disapparate within the grounds."

"It isn't usually, Miss Granger," Dumbledore strode into the Hall in robes of the purest gold, "But, considering the event we're holding, it seemed logical to lower the enchantments for the day."

"Not to mention the fact that it's still dark outside, or that it's freezing," said Fred, "I don't think anyone would want to walk somewhere when it's pitch black and snowy. You'd be loony if you did."

"You have a point, Mr Weasley," Dumbledore said, "It's a good thing I took it upon myself to bring the majority of the guests with me, isn't it? I think the only people that still need to arrive are your parents, Miss Granger, and, of course, Harry and Molly."

"Is the rest of our family here?" Ginny sat up in her seat.

"Yes, Miss Weasley. They're waiting down at the Quidditch pitch for the ceremony to begin. I must say that when I went to see Oliver before coming here he seemed rather excited, if a little bit nervous, which, I daresay, ought to be expected. He's giving his life to Harry, after all, and Harry will surely feel the same way," something big, bright and glowing that looked like a weasel came bounding in through the castle doors, "Ah, a message from Molly; Harry's ready. I guess that means that we'd better get down to the Quidditch pitch! Is everything organised? Guest lists, food and drink, entertainment?"

"Yes, sir, everything's sorted," Hermione smiled, "Let's get the groom here!" she bustled out of the Great Hall along with the Weasley clan and headed down to the Quidditch pitch in the piercingly cold air and snow.

Dumbledore waved his wand and out shot a beautiful shining phoenix, "We're ready for you, Harry," he said to the Patronus and sent it back out through the great double doors to the castle. He walked briskly out of the Great Hall and followed Hermione and the Weasleys down to the Quidditch pitch.

A great, shimmering phoenix drifted in through the window at The Burrow. Mrs Weasley walked over to it, stood there for a few seconds, turned to Harry and then said, "It's time, dear. How are you holding up?"

"Great, really great," Harry smiled, "I think I'm over my nerves; I'm going to spend my life with Oliver!" he started bouncing on the balls of his feet in excitement.

"You really do love him don't you, dear?" Mrs Weasley's voice broke slightly as she pulled him into a hug, "Grab my arm," Harry did as he was told. As he felt the ground beneath him slipping away he redoubled his grip on Mrs Weasley's arm; his eyes were being pushed back into his skull, something heavy was compressing him from all sides, and it felt as though he was being through a tight rubber tube. The sensation vanished as quick as it had appeared and he found himself standing outside Hogwarts castle in his dress robes, his scarlet cloak trailing down into the snow, "Ready? Here we go," she walked with Harry down to the Quidditch, kicking up snow as she struggled to lift her feet due to its sheer thickness and weight on her feet.

Harry's heart raced within the confines of his chest, his breathing became ragged, and he was suddenly flooded with a feeling of such jubilant excitement that he could hardly contain himself; he was finally going to be Bonded to Oliver!

Eventually they reached the entrance to the snow-covered Quidditch pitch and walked inside. It was beautiful; even though it was still pitch black, the bright snow on the ground did much to lighten up the pitch and gave it a ghostly, yet romantic, glow. The changes made became obvious as soon as Harry stepped foot onto the pitch; a large gold archway with stripes of scarlet velvet stood in the centre where Madame Hooch would have usually started a match, and a hundred-foot long scarlet carpet stretched out from the platform that the archway had been placed on, dozens of rows of chairs lined perfectly at either side of the carpet. Oliver was stood on the platform, looking as breathtaking as ever in his scarlet waist jacket, embroidered golden snitches moving around and fluttering their wings lightly on the silken vest. He turned to face Harry, as did the congregation in front, grinning broadly. Harry smiled back and began the long stroll down the aisle, Mrs Weasley clinging onto his arm by his side. As he walked past the numerous faces of the people sat in their chairs he realised that he only knew a few of them. Some of them he recognised but others he had no idea of who they were or how they knew him. He put a lot of them down to being from Oliver's family and friends. He was surprised to see that a large group of people from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin had turned up and taken seats at the far front, just behind the Weasleys, Mr and Mrs Granger, Mrs Wood and what must have been Oliver's cousins, aunts and uncles. It appeared as though the entire Weasley family had turned up to the Bonding; about a third of the congregation had that telltale Weasley-red hair. Harry stepped up onto the platform and gazed at Oliver with a wide smile spreading across his cheeks.

"I love you," he mouthed.

"I love you too," Oliver mouthed in reply.

It took everything Harry had not to ravage Oliver right there in front of the congregation and the Bonder, a young-looking woman with blonde hair and, Harry noted, braces. Instead, Harry simply took Oliver's hand in his own. Oliver's best man, a short burly man that looked no older than twenty five, stood at his side wearing a set of red robes, with Ron, Fred and George standing next to Harry in their scarlet suits and golden ties.

"Do we have the rings?" the Bonder asked. Ginny rushed up to the platform and handed her the snitch-engraved rings that Oliver had bought; Harry and Oliver had given them to Ginny before they parted; she was to be the ring-bearer. The snitches on them fluttered their wings in a non-existent breeze, "Dearly beloved," (Mrs Weasley sniffed), "we are gathered here today to witness the creation of a bond between these two gentlemen. A Bonding is not something that should be entered into lightly as it entails a link between two souls that promise to spend their lives together. Harry Potter and Oliver Wood have mutually agreed to head down this path in the hope that they will be eternally happy in each other's company. I now ask that if anyone should have any reason as to why these two men should not Bonded to speak now or forever hold their peace," there was a deafening silence across the pitch, apart from the quiet sobbing coming from Mrs Weasley as she buried her head in Mr Weasley's shoulder. Harry and Oliver smirked at each other, "The grooms have asked that they recite their own vows," she finished. Harry's heart sank; he'd completely forgotten to write his vows.

"Harry James Potter," Oliver began, held Harry's hand in front of him and took a ring from the Bonder, "We first met when I was fifteen and you were only eleven. I felt something for you back then but you didn't know it, and it took everything I had not to show my true feelings; I knew that any relationship we struck up, if one were to happen, would not be accepted because of our age difference. I sat in the furthest corners of the Gryffindor common room watching you grow with your friends until I had to leave you in your third year. It killed me to let you go and I thought I'd never get another chance to show you how much I cared," (Mrs Weasley's sobbing grew louder, followed by mumblings that sounded like, "He waited for him!") But then I learned that there was a coaching position opening up at Hogwarts and I could no longer resist the urge to see you; I applied with haste and I was lucky enough to have been the only one to try to get the job. My eyes lit up when I saw you that day in The Three Broomsticks, and I became ecstatic when you came out; I finally had the chance to show you I cared for you. I tried to think of ways that I would be able to attract you, but nothing sprung to mind that didn't involve tricking you somehow, so I threw those ideas away, and I was desperate for a way to get you to love me of your own accord. Then you saved me that day during practice and I just couldn't keep my hands off you any longer; I needed to show you I loved you. We spent time together, and we grew closer than I could have ever imagined we would become. Then we were thrown into a dangerous situation; there were two Nocturnimagi that threatened to kill us and yet we continued to thrive as a couple. But now it's over, and we can finally be the couple we want to be, with a baby on its way, too; I love you from within the deepest depths of my heart, you kind, caring, wonderful man and I give you this ring as a symbol of my everlasting and undying love," he slid the ring onto Harry's finger. Harry's eyes welled with tears of sheer joy and, he noticed, Oliver was crying freely and grinning broadly, his face radiating with an effervescent glow. Harry prayed to the world that Mrs Weasley wouldn't see this, but then she started wailing into Mr Weasley's suit.

"Oliver Wood," Harry said, nervous at the fact that he hadn't written his own vows, but he decided to improvise the best he could, "I don't think I've ever felt so connected to someone in my life. Every inch of me longs to be with you and spend the rest of my days safe in your loving arms," it started to come naturally to him now as white hot tears streamed down his face, "You're my vision of perfection and nothing can ruin that. I swear to you my unwavering loyalty and affection, and I give you this ring as a symbol of my everlasting and undying love," he slid the ring on Oliver's finger while Mrs Weasley wailed amongst the congregation, Hermione and Ginny joining in with quiet sobs. Even Ron, Fred and George appeared to have become emotional as their eyes glistened in the moonlight, "We'll raise the child as a family. My love for you will never cease and I promise to grow old with you."

"Now if I could just ask you to hold hands, I can perform the Bonding," the Bonder smiled. Harry and Oliver gazed at each other as they intertwined their fingers. The Bonder took her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at their clasped hands, "_Creatura Vinculi!_", a warm golden glow emanated from Harry and Oliver's hands and slowly penetrated their bodies, filling them with a feeling of comfort that they didn't want to let go of. They felt something swirling around inside them, and as they looked down they saw that there were small ribbony lines trailing away from their stomach. The lines connected and, in a bright flash of light, they disappeared, leaving Harry and Oliver stood with an intense feeling of peace and tranquillity, "The Bonding has been completed!" the Bonder announced to the congregation, "It is with great pleasure that I announce Harry and Oliver to be Bonded under the name Potter-Wood! You may now-"

"We get it, we get it," Harry chuckled and grabbed the back of Oliver's head, pulling him hard and fast into a crushing kiss full of love and passion. The congregation burst into rapturous applause and Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Hermione and Mrs Granger were now in floods of tears, sobbing at the height of their lungs. Dumbledore stood at the back of the rows of seats, one small tear trickling down his worn face and a wide smile spread across his features as Harry and Oliver Potter-Wood made their way back down the aisle, heading up to the castle for the reception in the Great Hall.

"I just want to make a toast," Ron shouted after he tapped his glass and the noise in the Hall died down, "to the newlybonds, Harry and Oliver Potter-Wood. I know the best man is supposed to make a big speech and throw a few jokes in but let's face it, I'm not exactly the funniest person alive. That award goes to Fred and George," the guests chuckled. Mrs Weasley and Mrs Wood were still crying from the ceremony and Harry and Oliver were struggling to fight back fits of laughter as they continued to sob quietly into a handkerchief. Nobody could see it but they hadn't once let go of each other's hand as they entered the castle; they still had their hands clasped together beneath the long table, "I've known Harry since our first year and I can honestly say that the things we went through that year definitely helped to seal the great friendship we have now, and it makes me so happy to know that he's found someone he can call his own and love as much as he wants. Harry, you've found a really great man in Oliver and if you ever let him go I'll personally make sure that a trained hitwizard Crucios you until you get him back," the congregation started laughing at this, "To Harry and Oliver Potter-Wood, and the little bundle of joy that's on its way!"

"Harry and Oliver!" the guests chanted and raised their glasses.

After the toasting the party began, and Oliver made sure to introduce his new husband to his family, "Harry, I'd like you to meet my aunts, Kirsty Barker and Kaye Chittock," Oliver's aunts were identical twins, with tightly pursed lips, high cheek bones and black hair tied up in a firm bun at the back. They nodded and smiled at Harry; it looked slightly odd considering their outward appearance, "They both married Muggle accountants. And these are my cousins, Jonny, Gwen, Aixha and Eva," a group of small children came scurrying up to them, "Say hello to my new husband, kids. This is Harry," Oliver beamed, "I've been wanting to say that for so long," he whispered in Harry's ear.

"Hi, Harry!" the children sang and wrapped themselves around Harry's legs, stopping him from moving.

"Hi, kids," Harry smiled and patted each of them on their head, "How have your holidays been?" he asked and bent down to their level, forcing them to let go.

"Alright…" they seemed to talk like one complete unit; Harry was waiting to hear what each of them sounded like individually but he didn't get the chance; Ron was dragging him off to meet the other Weasleys, leaving Oliver to speak to his cousins. As Harry had expected of the Weasley family, they all had burning red hair.

"This is my cousin Joana Vaz, married to the auror Bosefus Vaz, and my aunts, Becky Lomax and Orla Barr. They've both married those Muggle please-men," he introduced.

"_Policemen_," they corrected him, "Honestly, Ronald, you're just like your father."

"Nice to meet you all," Harry smiled and nodded, "And who's this?" he crouched down again came to eye-level with a small girl who had, to his surprise, flowing blonde hair, "What's your name, sweetie?" the girl shrunk away into Becky's legs.

"Oh, don't mind her," she said, chuckling, "She's just a little shy."

"How old is she?"

"She's only four, bless her, but she's growing up quickly," said Becky.

"I'm Harry," he held out his hand, "Are you going to tell me yours?"

"S-Sydney…" she mumbled.

"That's a really pretty name, Sydney," Harry smiled comfortingly, "I tell you what, how about I stay in contact with your parents and then when my baby comes along you can be best friends with it, eh?" Sydney smiled and nodded.

"Ah! Mr Potter-Wood!" the Bonder called from across the Hall.

"One minute," Harry said and strode over the Bonder. She was sat with a woman who had flowing black hair and a round face.

"I just thought I'd offer my personal congratulations! I'm Ella Matthews and this is my life partner, Ellen Hayes. We're due to be Bonded ourselves next year!"

"Congratulations," Harry smiled and shook her hand, "Not to be rude or anything, but I really need to get back to my new husband."

"Of course, of course!" Ella said, "Please, don't let me keep you."

Harry nodded his appreciation and walked over to a nearby table, where Oliver was sat chatting animatedly to his best man about Quidditch, and Puddlemere United in particular.

"Harry, I'd like you to meet Dean Finnigan," Oliver beamed, "He was the player at Puddlemere United I was telling you about. I was just telling him how I don't regret leaving the club one bit; if I hadn't left, I wouldn't have found you again," he placed a kiss on Harry's cheek, "Dean this is-"

"Aye, I know who this alrigh'!" Dean beamed and stood up, his hand outstretched, "And I have to say that he's cuter in person than I first thought."

"Mr Finnigan, I hardly think that's an appropriate thing to say!" Mrs Weasley's stern voice boomed from behind Harry, causing him to jump slightly, "Do you have no tact? Go on, shoo!" Dean scuttled off to another table, sulking.

"Now I remember why I thought twice about asking him to be my best man," Oliver muttered darkly, "He's always flirting when he really shouldn't be. If he does that again I'm going to hex him into next July."

"Ollie, baby, calm down," Harry cupped his face with his hands, "I'm sure he won't, not while Mrs Weasley's on guard, anyway. I love you too much to let anyone come between us, understand?" he brushed his lips over Oliver's with overwhelming passion, "I'm spending my life with you, remember?" he held his ring hand up; the snitches on both of their rings were fluttering their wings rapidly, a sign that they were both as happy as they could be.

"I love you, have I ever told you that?" Oliver whispered to him.

"Not a day goes by when you don't say it to me," Harry whispered back to him, "but I don't know what I'd do if you stopped."

"Save it for tonight!" George shouted mockingly from the other side of the Hall. Harry and Oliver smiled amusedly.

"Oi, Harry! Come here!" Fred called from a nearby table, "I need to talk to you about something!"

Harry sighed in exasperation; all he wanted was to be with Oliver. He walked over to Fred's table, somewhat reluctantly, "What is it?"

"Did you like our little prank?" George asked, grinning mischievously.

"Prank? What prank?"

"The prank we pulled on Snape, stupid!" Fred said, "We heard that he was ordering big shipments of Dreamless Draught so we thought we'd add a bit of Elation Elixir to it to make him a little more cheery."

"That was you two?! It was brilliant! Although, I think you might have went a little bit overboard; you should have seen the state of the colours he ended up wearing, not to mention him decorating his classroom like Dobby would; my eyes were killing me after all those bright colours!"

"Sorry about that," Fred and George blushed, "We didn't quite know how much to add so we just threw a whole bottle of it in."

"Can you hear me?" Mrs Weasley's voice rang through the Hall. She was stood on the stage and a microphone stand was in front of her, "Could we have the two newlybonds up on the dance floor? It's time for their first dance!" she couldn't keep the excitement out of her voice. Everyone returned to their tables as Harry and Oliver made their way up to the dance floor. The lights in the Great Hall dimmed, but that didn't do much; the sun was now breaking above the horizon outside and caused the snow on the ground to sparkle as the light danced across the surface of the thick white blanket. Harry gazed longing into Oliver's sparkling chestnut eyes as he wrapped his arms around his new husband's neck while the Weird Sisters took the stage and started to play a slow number. Oliver snaked his arms around Harry's waist and pulled him close as they started to turn minutely on the spot.

"I love you, Snitchy," Oliver said quietly as he stared, transfixed, into Harry's glistening emerald eyes. He suddenly became aware of a considerable wetness making itself apparent in his own eyes; he was crying and he didn't even know it. Harry, too, started crying, and made no attempt to conceal that fact. As they rotated on the spot, they continued to confess their love to each other; every time they said it the other one would get a thrill of excitement that never threatened to get old. Before long, they had pressed their foreheads together and were kissing passionately as they danced to the slow music, many of the women in the congregation cooing when they realised that Harry and Oliver were crying. The song finished, but Harry and Oliver remained rooted to the spot kissing, full of pure love and compassion for the other. It was only when Mrs Weasley cleared her throat after five minutes of the song ending that they realised they were holding up the dance floor. Blushing, they scurried off back to their seats at the long table, where they continued to kiss for the next ten minutes.

The dancing and partying continued for the next few hours, and only when the buffet opened did the noise in the Great Hall die down so that everybody could have some much-needed refreshments. But, like everything else in this world, the party had to end, and the guests slowly started draining away back to their homes; they congratulated the happy couple on their way out and once they had exited the castle many of them Disapparated, although the Muggles that had attended needed to be taken home by Fred, George, Mr Weasley and Dumbledore. After what felt like ages the Great Hall was empty except for Mrs Weasley, Ginny, Hermione, Harry and Oliver.

"Wow, look at the two of you," Mrs Weasley sniffed and wiped her swollen red eyes on a handkerchief, "So handsome… How does it feel, being Bonded at last?"

"I've never felt better," Harry smiled, "And I know for a fact that I'm going to be perfectly safe in this loveable man's arms," he added and rested his head on Oliver's shoulder.

"Speak for yourself," Oliver chuckled, "I'm the one carrying our baby, remember? _You'll_ need to keep _me_ safe," he placed a kiss on Harry's forehead.

"I'll certainly try," Harry said, "I wouldn't make a very good daddy if I didn't, would I?"

Harry wrapped both of his arms around Oliver's side.

"Are you looking forward to your honeymoon?" Mrs Weasley said excitedly, and Harry felt guilty for thinking that it was getting slightly annoying.

"Oh yes," Oliver smiled mischievously, "I think it's going to be a lot of fun," he added with a wink to Hermione and Ginny, who shook their heads and rolled their eyes. Mrs Weasley didn't seem to have cottoned on.

"Well, off you go! Here are your plane tickets and your luggage," she handed them two tickets for a plane that was due to set off at seven o'clock that night, as well as their trunks that rattled as they were drawn along the stone floor, "All of your Christmas gifts for each other are in there. Don't worry, we'll look after Snuffles," she added when Harry pointed to the Crup with a concerned expression on his face, "Now, off you go."

"Thanks for everything, Hermione and Mrs Weasley," Harry and Oliver beamed at them, "This whole day has been amazing."

"It wasn't a problem. Not at a problem at all," Mrs Weasley pulled them both into bone-crushing hugs. At least Hermione and the others were able to hug them without trying to snap them in half like a boa constrictor.

"Off to the Maldives, it is!" Oliver smiled.

He and Oliver walked out of the double doors to the castle into the wintry air beyond, the afternoon sun shining brightly down upon. But something caught Harry's eye and he thought he was seeing things. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief once, twice, three times, but his sight wasn't deceiving him. His trunk clattered to the floor and rolled down the slight slant to the feet of a pretty woman, with flowing red hair and glistening emerald eyes, and a tall man, with glasses and wild black hair. Stood in front of him were the two people in the world that Harry most wanted to see.

"M-mum?! D-dad?! W-what are you-?!"

"Shhh!" Lily placed a finger to her lips to silence him, "Go on your honeymoon, this can wait until you get back."

"We're proud of you, son," James smiled, his eyes twinkling behind his glasses, "Now go, before you miss your flight."

* * *

**I really hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. The sequel is called "Cygnus Threshold" and you can find it on my profile. Thanks for reading!**

**P.S. I think I ought to point out that I'm a guy, since people mistake me for a woman! xDDD**

**~ WoodismyKeeper**


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